A  ROVAL  PRISONER 


PIERRE  SOUVESTRE 

AND 

MARCEL    A  L  LAIN 


A  ROYAL  PRISONER 


FANT6MAS  DETECTIVE  TALES 

By 
PIERRE  SOUVESTRE  and  MARCEL  ALLAIN 

I2mo.     Cloth.     Price,  $1.40,  net,  each. 


I. 

FANTOMAS 

The  Adventures  of  Detective  Juve  in  Pursuit  of  a 
Master  in  Crime. 

II. 
THE  EXPLOITS  OF  JUVE 

In  this  continuation  of  "Fantomas"  the  further  adven- 
tures of  Detective  Juve  are  narrated  and  tell  of  his  efforts 
to  run  the  notorious  criminal  to  earth.  Fantomas  appears 
here  33  the  leader  of  a  gang  of  Apaches. 

III. 
MESSENGERS  OF  EVIL 

This  third  Instalment  of  the  adventures  of  Detective 
Juve  contains  a  recital  of  some  remarkable  happenings  in 
the  life  of  this  master-criminal  of  Paris. 

IV. 
A  NEST  OF  SPIES 

Fantomas  now  appears  as  the  representative  in  Paris 
of  a  Foreign  Government  whose  real  business  is  to  obtain 
important  military  secrets  for  Germany.  Juve  succeeds 
in  defeating  his.  efforts,  but  the  criminal  himself  escapes 
once  more. 

V. 

A  ROYAL  PRISONER 

This  volume  tells  of  the  daring  exploits  of  Fantomas 
in  his  attempts  to  get  possession  of  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar's  famous  diamond. 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation 

BRENTANO'S 


THE  FANTOMAS  DETECTIVE  NOVELS 

A  ROYAL 
PRISONER 


BY 

PIERRE  SOUVESTRE 

AND 

MARCEL  ALLAIN 


NEW  YORK 

BRENTANO'S 

1918 

..? 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY  BRENTANO'S 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I.    A  ROYAL  JAG 3 

II.     MOTHER  CITRON'S  TENANTS 12 

III.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RUE  DE  MONCEAU  .    21 

IV.  WHO  Do  THEY  THINK  I  AM  ?    .     .    .    .     33 
V.     BY  THE  SINGING  FOUNTAINS 42 

VI.     THE  INVESTIGATION  BEGINS 49 

VII.     THE  KING  RECEIVES 63 

VIII.     MARIE  PASCAL 69 

IX.    A  PARTY  OF  THREE 76 

X.       WULFENMIMENGLASCHK 86 

XL  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY-SEVEN  STA- 
TIONS   98 

XII.     CAMOUFLAGE 110 

XIII.  THE  KINGDOM  OF  HESSE- WEIMAR  .     .     .118 

XIV.  QUEEN  HEDWIGE  RECEIVES 127 

XV.     THE  MYSTERIOUS  PRISON 137 

XVI.     THE  THEFT  OF  THE  DIAMOND 146 

XVII.    ON  THE  RIGHT  TRAIL 155 

XVIII.     A  SLEEPER 165 

XIX.     FREE! 174 

XX.     FREDERICK-CHRISTIAN 180 

XXI.     HORRIBLE  CERTAINTY 190 

XXII.  BETWEEN  Us  THREE — FANTOMAS!  .     .    .  195 

XXIII.  OFFICIAL  OPINIONS 210 

XXIV.  JUVE'S  LIES 218 

XXV.     "I  WANT  TO  LIVE!" 224 

XXVI.    THE  ACCUSING  WAISTCOAT 227 

XXVII.  THE  EXPLOSION  OF  THE  NORD-SUD  .     .     .  234 

XXVIII.  INNOCENT  OR  GUILTY? 243 

XXIX.    COMPROMISING  DISCOVERIES 250 

XXX.     SHADOWED 256 

XXXI.     THE  DEATH  WATCH 264 

XXXII.  THE  ARREST  OF  FANTdMAs                       .  270 


2040694 


A  ROYAL  PRISONER 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER 


CHAPTER    I 

A    ROYAL   JAG 

"     A     FTER  all,  why  not  celebrate?     It's  the  last 

j£j^  day  of  the  year  and  it  won't  come  again  for 
twelve  months." 

It  was  close  upon  midnight. 

Jerome  Fandor,  reporter  on  the  popular  newspaper, 
La  Capitate,  was  strolling  along  the  boulevard ;  he  had 
just  come  from  a  banquet,  one  of  those  official  and 
deadly  affairs  at  which  the  guests  are  obliged  to  listen 
to  interminable  speeches.  He  had  drowsed  through 
the  evening  and  at  the  first  opportunity  had  managed 
to  slip  away  quickly. 

The  theatres  were  just  out  and  the  boulevard  was 
crowded  \vith  people  intent  on  making  a  night  of  it. 
Numberless  automobiles  containing  the  fashionable 
and  rich  of  Paris  blocked  the  streets.  The  restaurants 
were  brilliantly  illuminated,  and  as  carriages  dis- 
charged their  occupants  before  the  doors,  one  glimpsed 

the  neat  feet  and  ankles  of  daintily  clad  women  as 

3 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER 


they  crossed  the  sidewalk  and  disappeared  inside,  fol- 
lowing their  silk-hatted  escorts,  conscious  of  their  own 
importance. 

Many  years  of  active  service  in  Paris  as  chief  re- 
porter of  La  Capitate  had  brought  Jerome  Fandor  in 
touch  with  a  good  third  of  those  who  constitute 
Parisian  society,  and  rarely  did  he  fail  to  exchange 
a  nod,  a  smile,  or  half  a  dozen  words  of  friendly 
greeting  whenever  he  set  foot  out  of  doors. 

But  in  spite  of  his  popularity  he  led  a  lonely  life — 
many  acquaintances,  but  few  close  friends.  The  great 
exception  was  Juve,  the  celebrated  detective. 

In  fact,  Fandor 's  complex  and  adventurous  life  was 
very  much  bound  up  with  that  of  the  police  officer, 
for  they  had  worked  together  in  solving  the  mystery 
of  many  tragic  crimes. 

On  this  particular  evening,  the  reporter  became 
gradually  imbued  with  the  general  spirit  of  gaiety 
and  abandon  which  surrounded  him. 

"Hang  it,"  he  muttered,  "I  might  go  and  hunt  up 
Juve  and  drag  him  off  to  supper,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
should  get  a  cool  reception  if  I  did.  He  is  probably 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just  and  would  strongly  ob- 
ject to  being  disturbed.  Anyway,  sooner  or  later, 
I'll  probably  run  into  some  one  I  know." 

On  reaching  Drouet  Square,  he  espied  an  inviting- 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER 


looking  restaurant,  brilliantly  lit.  He  was  about  to 
make  his  way  to  a  table  when  the  head  waiter  stopped 
him. 

"Your  name,  please!" 

"What's  that?"  replied  Fandor. 

The  waiter  answered  with  ironical  politeness: 

"I  take  it  for  granted  you  have  engaged  a  table. 
We  haven't  a  single  vacant  place  left." 

Fandor  had  the  same  luck  at  several  other  restau- 
rants and  then  began  to  suffer  the  pangs  of  hunger, 
having,  on  principle,  scarcely  touched  the  heavy  dishes 
served  at  the  banquet. 

After  wandering  aimlessly  about,  he  walked  toward 
the  Madeleine  and  turned  off  into  the  Rue  Royale  in 
the  direction  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore. 

As  he  was  passing  a  discreet  looking  restaurant 
with  many  thick  velvet  curtains  and  an  imposing  array 
of  private  automobiles  before  it,  he  heard  his  name 
called. 

He  stopped  short  and  turned  to  see  a  vision  of 
feminine  loveliness  standing  before  him. 

"Isabelle  de  Guerray!"  he  cried. 

"And  how  are  you,  my  dear  boy?  Come  along  in 
with  me." 

Fandor  had  known  Isabelle  de  Guerray  when  she 
was  a  young  school  teacher  just  graduated  from 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER 


Sevres.  Her  career,  beginning  with  a  somewhat 
strange  and  unorthodox  affair  with  a  young  man  of 
good  family  who  had  killed  himself  for  her,  had  pro- 
gressed by  rapid  strides  and  her  name  was  frequently 
cited  in  the  minor  newspapers  as  giving  elegant  "so- 
ciety" suppers,  the  guests  being  usually  designated  by 
their  initials! 

Fandor  remarked  that  the  fair  Isabelle  seemed  to 
be  putting  on  weight,  especially  round  the  shoulders 
and  hips,  but  she  still  retained  a  great  deal  of  dash 
and  an  ardent  look  in  her  eyes,  very  valuable  assets 
in  her  profession. 

"I  have  my  table  here,  at  Raxim's,  you  must  come 
and  join  us,"  and  she  added  with  a  sly  smile,  "Oh — 
quite  platonically — I  know  you're  unapproachable." 

A  deafening  racket  was  going  on  in  the  narrow, 
oblong  room.  The  habitues  of  the  place  all  knew 
each  other  and  the  conversation  was  general.  No  re- 
straint was  observed,  so  that  it  was  quite  permissible 
to  wander  about,  hat  on  head  and  cigar  between  lips, 
or  take  a  lady  upon  one's  knees. 

Fandor  followed  Isabelle  to  a  table  overloaded  with 
flowers  and  bottles  of  champagne.  Here  and  there 
he  recognized  old  friends  from  the  Latin  Quarter  or 
Montmartre,  among  them  Conchita  Conchas,  a  Spanish 
dancer  in  vogue  the  previous  winter.  A  tiny  woman, 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER 


who  might  have  been  a  girl  of  fifteen  from  her  figure, 
but  whose  face  was  marked  with  the  lines  of  dissipa- 
tion, ran  into  him  and  Fandor  promptly  put  his  arm 
round  her  waist. 

"Hello,  if  it  isn't  little  Souppe!" 

"Paws  down  or  I'll  scratch,"  was  the  sharp  reply. 

The  next  moment  he  was  shaking  hands  with  Daisy 
Kissmi,  an  English  girl  who  had  become  quite  a  fea- 
ture of  Raxim's. 

Further  on  he  noticed  a  pale,  bald,  and  already  pot- 

j 
bellied  young  man,  who  was  staring  with  lack-lustre 

eyes  at  his  whiskey  and  soda.  This  premature  ruin 
was  listening  distraitly  to  a  waiter  who  murmured 
mysteriously  into  his  ear. 

At  the  end  of  the  room,  surrounded  by  pretty 
women,  sat  the  old  Duke  de  Pietra,  descendant  of  a 
fine  old  Italian  family,  and  near  him  Arnold,  an  actor 
from  the  music  halls. 

The  patrons  had  no  choice  in  regard  to  the  supper, 
which  was  settled  by  the  head  waiter.  Each  received 
a  bottle  of  champagne,  Ostend  oysters,  and,  later, 
large  slices  of  pate  de  foie  gras,  and  as  the  bottles 
were  emptied,  intoxication  became  general,  while  even 
the  waiters  seemed  to  catch  the  spirit  of  abandon. 
When  the  Hungarian  band  had  played  their  most  se- 
ductive waltzes,  the  leader  came  forward  to  the  mid- 


8  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

die  of  the  room  and  announced  a  new  piece  of  his  own 
composition,  called  "The  Singing  Fountains."  This 
met  with  instant  applause  and  laughter. 

As  the  night  wore  on  the  noise  became  positively 
deafening.  A  young  Jew  named  Weil  invented  a  new 
game.  He  seized  two  plates  and  began  scraping  them 
together.  Many  of  the  diners  followed  his  example. 

"Look  here,"  exclaimed  Conchita  Conchas,  leaning 
familiarly  upon  Fandor's  shoulder,  "why  don't  you 
give  us  tickets  for  to-morrow  to  hear  these  famous 
Fountains  ?" 

Fandor  started  to  explain  that  the  young  woman 
would  be  in  bed  and  sound  asleep  when  that  event  took 
place,  but  the  Spanish  girl,  without  waiting  for  the 
answer,  had  strolled  away. 

The  journalist  rose  with  the  intention  of  making 
his  escape,  when  a  voice  directly  behind  him  made 
him  pause. 

"Excuse  me,  but  you  seem  to  know  all  about  these 
'Singing  Fountains/  Will  you  kindly  explain  to  me 
what  they  are?  I  am  a  stranger  in  the  city." 

Fandor  turned  and  saw  a  man  of  about  thirty,  fair- 
haired,  with  a  heavy  moustache,  seated  alone  at  a  small 
table.  The  stranger  was  well  built  and  of  distin- 
guished appearance.  The  journalist  suppressed  a  start 
of  amazement. 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER 


"Why,  it's  not  surprising  that  you  have  not  heard 
of  them,  they  are  quite  unimportant.  On  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde  there  are  two  bronze  monuments  rep- 
resenting Naiads  emerging  from  the  fountains.  You 
probably  have  seen  them  yourself?" 

The  stranger  nodded,  and  poured  out  another  glass 
of  champagne. 

"Well,"  continued  Fandor,  "recently  passers-by  have 
fancied  they  heard  sounds  coming  from  these  figures. 
In  fact,  they  declare  that  the  Naiads  have  been  singing. 
A  delightfully  poetic  and  thoroughly  Parisian  idea, 
isn't  it?" 

"Very  Parisian  indeed." 

"The  papers  have  taken  it  up,  and  one  you  probably 
know  by  name,  La  Capitalc,  has  decided  to  investi- 
gate this  strange  phenomenon." 

"What  was  Conchita  asking  you  just  now?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  merely  to  give  her  a  card  for  the  cere- 
mony." 

The  conversation  continued  and  turned  to  other  sub- 
jects. The  stranger  ordered  more  wine  and  insisted 
on  Fandor  joining  him.  He  seemed  to  be  particularly 
interested  in  the  subject  of  women  and  the  night  life 
of  Paris. 

"If  only  I  could  persuade  him  to  come  with  me," 
thought  Fandor.  "I'd  show  him  a  stunt  or  two,  and 


io  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

what  a  scoop  it  would  make  ...  if  it  could  be  printed ! 
He  certainly  is  drunk,  very  drunk,  and  that  may  help 
me." 

On  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  deserted  at  this  late 
hour,  two  men,  arm  in  arm,  were  taking  their  devious 
way.  They  were  Fandor  and  the  stranger  he  had  met 
at  Raxim's. 

The  journalist,  with  the  aid  of  an  extra  bottle,  had 
persuaded  his  new  friend  to  finish  the  night  among  the 
cafes  of  Montmartre.  The  sudden  change  from  the 
overheated  restaurant  to  the  cold  outside  increased  the 
effects  of  the  alcohol  and  Fandor  realized  that  he  him- 
self was  far  from  sober.  As  his  companion  seemed  to 
be  obsessed  with  the  idea  of  seeing  the  Fountains,  the 
journalist  piloted  him  to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde. 

"There  you  are,"  he  exclaimed,  "but  you  see  they're 
closed.  No  more  singing  to-night.  Now  come  and 
have  a  drink." 

"Good  idea,  some  more  champagne." 

Fandor  hailed  a  taxi,  and  ordered  the  chauffeur  to 
drive  to  the  Place  Pigalle.  As  he  was  shutting  the 
door,  he  observed  an  old  beggar,  who  evidently  was 
afraid  to  ask  for  alms.  Fandor  threw  him  a  coin  as 
the  taxi  started. 

It  was  three  in  the  morning,  and  the  Place  Pigalle 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  11 

was  crowded  with  carriages,  porters  and  a  constant  ebb 
and  flow  of  all  sorts  of  people. 

The  journalist  and  his  companion  emerged  some 
time  later  from  one  of  the  best  known  restaurants,  both 
drunk,  especially  the  stranger,  who  could  scarcely  keep 
his  feet. 

"Look  here,  we  must  go  ...  go  ..." 

"Go  to  bed,"  interrupted  Fandor. 

"No.     I  know  where  we  can  go.  ... " 

"But  we've  been  everywhere." 

"We'll  go  to-  my  rooms  ...  to  her  rooms  ...  to 
Susy  d'Orsel  .  .  .  she's  my  girl  .  .  .  d'ye  know,  she's 
been  expecting  me  for  supper  since  midnight." 

"More  supper?" 

"Of  course  .  .  .  there's  plenty  of  room  left." 

With  some  difficulty  the  stranger  managed  to  give 
the  address,  247  Rue  de  Monceau. 

"All  right,"  said  Fandor  to  himself,  "we'll  have 
some  fun;  after  all,  what  do  I  risk?" 

While  the  taxi  shook  them  violently  from  side  to 
side,  Fandor  grew  comparatively  sober.  He  exam- 
ined his  companion  more  closely  and  was  surprised  to 
see  how  well  he  carried  himself  in  spite  of  his  con- 
dition. 

"Well,"  he  summed  up,  "he  certainly  has  a  jag,  but 
it's  a  royal  jag!" 


CHAPTER   II 
MOTHER  CITRON'S  TENANTS 

*<1L  TOW  you've  forgotten  the  fish  knives  and 
^j  forks!  Do  you  expect  my  lover  to  eat  with 
his  fingers  like  that  old  Chinaman  I  had  for 
three  months  last  year!" 

Susy  d'Orsel  spoke  with  a  distinct  accent  of  the 
Faubourg,  which  contrasted  strangely  with  her  delicate 
and  distinguished  appearance. 

Justine,  her  maid,  stood  staring  in  reply. 

"But,  Madame,  we  have  lobsters.  ..." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it,  they're  fish,  ain't 
they?" 

The  young  woman  left  the  table  and  went  into  the 
adjoining  room,  a  small  drawing-room,  elegantly  fur- 
nished in  Louis  XV  style. 

"Justine,"  she  called. 

"Madame." 

"Here's  another  mistake.  You  mustn't  get  red 
orchids.  Throw  these  out  ...  I  want  either  mauve 
or  yellow  ones.  .  .  .  You  know  those  are  the  official 
colors  of  His  Majesty." 

"Queer  taste  his  ...  His  Majesty  has  for  yellow." 

12 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  13 

"What's  that  to  do  with  you.  Get  a  move  on,  lay 
the  table." 

"I  left  the  pate  de  foie  gras  in  the  pantry  with  ice 
round  it." 

"All  right." 

The  young  woman  returned  to  the  dining-room  and 
gave  a  final  glance  at  the  preparations. 

"He's  a  pretty  good  sort,  my  august  lover."  Jus- 
tine started  in  surprise. 

"August!     Is  that  a  new  one?" 

Susy  d'Orsel  could  hardly  repress  a  smile. 

"Mind  your  own  business.     What  time  is  it  ?" 

"A  quarter  to  twelve,  Madame."  And  as  the  girl 
started  to  leave  the  room  she  ventured: 

"I  hope  M.  August  won't  forget  me,  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Why,  you  little  idiot,  his  name  isn't  August,  it's 
Frederick-Christian!  You  have  about  as  much  sense 
as  an  oyster!" 

The  maid  looked  so  crestfallen  at  this  that  Susy 
added,  good-naturedly  : 

"That's  all  right,  Justine,  A  Happy  New  Year  any- 
way, and  don't  worry.  And  now  get  out ;  His  Majesty 
wants  nobody  about  but  me  this  evening." 

Susy  d'Orsel,  in  spite  of  her  physical  charms,  had 
found  life  hard  during  the  earlier  years  of  her  career. 


14  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

She  had  become  a  mediocre  actress  merely  for  the 
sake  of  having  some  profession,  and  had  frequented 
the  night  restaurants  in  quest  of  a  wealthy  lover.  It 
was  only  after  a  long  delay  that  fortune  had  smiled 
.  upon  her,  and  she  had  arrived  at  the  enviable  position 
of  being  the  mistress  of  a  King. 

Frederick-Christian  II,  since  the  death  of  his  father 
three  years  previously,  reigned  over  the  destinies  of 
the  Kingdom  of  Hesse- Weimar.  Young  and  thor- 
oughly Parisian  in  his  tastes,  he  felt  terribly  bored  in 
his  middle-class  capital  and  sought  every  opportunity 
of  going,  incognito,  to  have  a  little  fun  in  Paris.  Dur- 
ing each  visit  he  never  failed  to  call  upon  Susy  d'Orsel, 
and  by  degrees,  coming  under  the  sway  of  her  charms, 
he  made  her  a  sort  of  official  mistress,  an  honor  which 
greatly  redounded  to  her  glory  and  popularity. 

He  had  installed  her  in  a  dainty  little  apartment  in 
the  Rue  de  Monceau.  It  was  on  the  third  floor  and 
charmingly  furnished.  In  fact,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
declaring  that  his  Queen  Hedwige,  despite  all  her 
wealth,  was  unable  to  make  her  apartment  half  so 
gracious  and  comfortable. 

Thus  it  was  that  Susy  d'Orsel  waited  patiently  for 
the  arrival  of  her  royal  lover,  who  had  telephoned  her 
he  would  be  with  her  on  the  night  of  December  the 
thirty-first. 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  15 

The  official  residence  of  the  King  while  in  Paris 
was  the  Royal  Palace  Hotel,  and  although  in  strict 
incognito,  he  rarely  spent  the  whole  night  out.  But 
he  intended  to  make  the  last  night  of  the  year  an 
exception  to  this  rule.  As  became  a  gallant  gentle- 
man, he  had  himself  seen  to  the  ordering  of  the  supper, 
and  a  procession  of  waiters  from  the  first  restaurants 
of  Paris  had  been  busy  all  the  afternoon  preparing  for 
the  feast. 

Suddenly  a  discreet  ring  at  the  bell  startled  Susy 
d'Orsel. 

"That's  queer,  I  didn't  expect  the  King  until  one 
o'clock!"  she  exclaimed. 

She  opened  the  door  and  saw  a  young  girl  standing 
on  the  landing. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Mademoiselle  Pascal !  What  are  you 
coming  at  this  hour  for?" 

"Excuse  me,  Madame,  for  troubling  you,  but  I've 
brought  your  lace  negligee.  It  took  me  quite  a  time 
to  finish,  and  I  thought  you'd  probably  like  it  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"Oh,  I  thought  it  had  already  come.  I'm  very 
glad  you  brought  it.  There  would  have  been  a 
fine  row  if  it  hadn't  been  ready  for  me  to  wear  this 
evening." 

Susy  d'Orsel  took  the  dressmaker  into  her  bedroom 


16  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

and  turned  on  the  electric  lights.  The  gown  was  then 
unwrapped  and  displayed.  It  was  of  mousseline  de 
soie,  trimmed  with  English  point. 

Susy  examined  it  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur  and 
then  nodded  her  head. 

"It's  fine,  my  girl,  you  have  the  fingers  of  a  fairy, 
but  it  must  put  your  eyes  out." 

"It  is  very  hard,  Madame,  especially  working  by 
artificial  light,  and  in  winter  the  days  are  so  short  and 
the  work  very  heavy.  That  is  why  I  came  to  you  at 
this  late  hour." 

Susy  smiled. 

"Late  hour!  Why  the  evening  is  just  beginning 
for  me." 

"Our  lives  are  very  different,  Madame." 

"That's  right,  I  begin  when  you  stop,  and  if  your 
work  is  hard,  mine  isn't  always  agreeable." 

The  two  women  laughed  and  then  Susy  took  off 
her  wrapper  and  put  on  the  new  negligee. 

"My  royal  lover  is  coming  this  evening." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Marie  Pascal.  "Your 
table  looks  very  pretty." 

"You  might  make  me  a  lace  table  cloth.  We'll  talk 
about  it  some  other  time,  not  this  evening;  besides,  I 
can't  be  too  extravagant." 

The  dressmaker  took  her  leave  a  few  moments  later 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  17 

and  made  her  way  with  care  in  the  semi-obscurity 
down  the  three  flights  of  stairs. 

Marie  Pascal  was  a  young  girl  in  the  early  twenties, 
fair-haired,  blue-eyed  and  with  a  graceful  figure. 
Modishly  but  neatly  dressed,  she  had  a  reputation  in 
the  neighborhood  as  a  model  of  discretion  and  virtue. 

She  worked  ceaselessly  and  being  clever  with  her 
fingers,  she  had  succeeded  in  building  up  so  good  a 
trade  in  the  rich  and  elegant  Monceau  quarter,  that 
in  the  busy  season  she  was  obliged  to  hire  one  or  two 
workwomen  to  help  her. 

As  she  was  crossing  the  court  to  go  to  her  own  room, 
a  voice  called  her  from  the  porter's  lodge. 

"Marie  Pascal,  look  here  a  moment." 

A  fat  woman  dressed  in  her  best  opened  the  door 
of  her  room  which  was  lit  by  one  flaring  gas  jet. 

Marie  Pascal,  in  spite  of  her  natural  kindliness, 
could  scarcely  repress  a  smile. 

Madame  Ceiron,  the  concierge,  or,  as  she  was  pop- 
ularly called,  "Mother  Citron,"  certainly  presented  a 
fantastic  appearance. 

She  was  large,  shapeless,  common,  and  good-na- 
tured. Behind  her  glasses,  her  eyes  snapped  with 
perpetual  sharp  humor.  She  had  a  mass  of  gray  hair 
that  curled  round  her  wrinkled  face,  which,  with  a 
last  remnant  of  coquetry,  she  made  up  outrageously. 


i8  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

Her  hands  and  feet  were  enormous,  disproportionate 
to  her  figure,  although  she  was  well  above  middle 
height.  She  invariably  wore  mittens  while  doing  the 
housework. 

Mother  Citron,  however,  did  very  little  work;  she 
left  that  to  a  subordinate  who,  for  a  modest  wage,  at- 
tended to  her  business  and  left  her  free  to  go  out 
morning,  noon  and  night.  She  now  questioned  Marie 
Pascal  with  considerable  curiosity,  and  the  young  girl 
explained  her  late  errand  to  deliver  the  gown  to  Susy 
d'Orsel. 

"Come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  coffee,  Mam'zelle  Pas- 
cal," urged  the  old  woman,  as  she  set  out  two  cups 
and  filled  them  from  a  coffee  pot  on  the  stove. 

Marie  Pascal  at  first  refused,  but  Mother  Citron 
was  so  insistent  that  she  ended  by  accepting  the  in- 
vitation. Besides,  she  felt  very  grateful  to  Madame 
Ceiron  for  having  recommended  her  to  the  proprietor 
of  the  house,  the  Marquis  de  Serac,  an  old  bachelor 
who  lived  on  the  first  floor. 

The  Marquis  had  used  his  good  offices  to  obtain 
for  her  an  order  for  laces  from  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar.  Mother  Citron  showed  a  kindly  interest  in 
this  enterprise. 

"Well,  did  you  see  the  King?" 

Marie  Pascal  hesitated: 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  19 

"I  saw  him  and  I  didn't  see  him." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  dear.  Is  the  lover  of  our 
lady  upstairs  a  good-looking  man?" 

"It's  hard  to  say.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,  he 
seemed  to  be  very  handsome.  You  see,  it  was  like 
this.  After  waiting  in  the  lobby  of  the  Royal  Palace 
Hotel  for  about  an  hour,  I  was  shown  into  a  large 
drawing-room ;  a  sort  of  footman  in  knee  breeches  took 
my  laces  into  the  adjoining  room  where  the  King  was 
walking  up  and  down.  I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  from  time  to  time." 

"What  did  he  do  then?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  must  have  liked  my  laces  for 
he  gave  me  a  large  order.  He  didn't  seem  to  pay 
much  attention  to  them;  he  picked  out  three  of  the 
samples  I  sent  in  and  what  seemed  queer,  he  also 
ordered  some  imitations  of  them." 

The  concierge  smiled  knowingly. 

"I  expect  the  imitations  were  for  his  lawful  wife, 
and  the  real  ones  for  his  little  friend.  Men  are  all 
alike.  Another  cup  of  coffee?" 

"Oh,  no,  thanks." 

"Well,  I  won't  insist;  each  one  to  his  taste.  The 
life  Susy  d'Orsel  leads  wouldn't  suit  you.  And  the 
amount  of  champagne  she  gets  through!" 

"No,  I  shouldn't  care  much  about  that." 


20  A   ROYAL    PRISONER 

"All  the  same,  there's  something  to  be  said  for  it. 
She  has  a  first-rate  position  since  she  got  the  King  .  .  . 
and  I  get  first-rate  tips!  Take  to-night,  for  instance; 
I'll  bet  they'll  be  carrying  on  till  pretty  near  dawn. 
It  upsets  my  habits,  but  I  can't  complain.  I'll  prob- 
ably get  a  good  New  Year's  present  in  the  morning." 

"Well,  as  it's  very  late  for  me,  I'll  go  up  to  bed." 

"Go  ahead,  my  dear,  don't  let  me  keep  you." 

Marie  Pascal  had  reached  the  stairs  when  she  turned 
back. 

"Oh,  Madame  Ceiron,  when  can  I  thank  the  Mar- 
quis de  Serac  for  his  kindness  in  introducing  me  to 
Frederick-Christian  ?" 

"No  hurry,  my  child,  the  Marquis  has  gone  to  the 
country  to  spend  the  New  Year's  day  with  his  relations 
and  he  won't  be  back  before  next  week." 

Marie  Pascal  climbed  the  stairs  to  her  room  on 
the  sixth  floor  and  the  concierge  returned  to  her  quar- 
ters and  settled  herself  in  an  armchair. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   TRAGEDY   OF   THE    RUE  DE   MONCEAU 

SUSY  d'ORSEL,  tired  of  waiting  for  her  royal 
lover,  was  sound  asleep  before  the  fire  in  her 
bedroom.  Suddenly  she  was  awakened  by  a 
loud  noise.  Still  half  asleep,  she  sat  up  listening.  The 
sounds  came  from  the  stairs.  Mechanically  Susy 
glanced  at  the  clock,  which  marked  the  quarter  after 
three. 

"I'll  bet  it's  him,  but  how  late  he  is !" 

As  the  sounds  drew  nearer,  she  added : 

"He  must  be  as  drunk  as  a  lord!  After  all,  Kings 
are  no  better  than  other  men." 

She  quickly  passed  to  the  outer  door  and  listened. 

"Why,  it  sounds  as  if  there  were  two  of  them!" 

A  key  fumbled  in  the  lock,  then  the  owner  of  it 
apparently  gave  up  the  task  as  hopeless  and  began  ring- 
ing the  bell. 

Susy  opened  the  door  and  Frederick-Christian  stag- 
gered in  followed  by  a  man  who  was  a  total  stranger 
to  her. 

The  latter,  bowing  in  a  correct  and  respectful  man- 
ner, carried  himself  with  dignity. 

21 


22  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

The  King  bubbled  over  with  laughter  and  leaned 
on  the  shoulder  of  his  lady-love. 

"Take  off  your  overcoat,"  she  said,  at  length,  and 
while  he  was  attempting  to  obey  her,  she  whispered : 

"If  your  Maj  ..." 

Before  she  could  finish  the  sentence  the  King  put 
his  hand  over  her  mouth. 

"My  .  .  .  my  .  .  .  my  dear  Susy  .  .  .  I'm  very 
fond  of  you  .  .  .  but  don't  begin  by  saying  stupid 
things.  ...  I  am  here  .  .  .  incog  .  .  .  incognito. 
Call  me  your  little  Cri-Cri,  Susy.  ..." 

"My  dear,"  she  replied,  "introduce  me  to  your 
friend." 

"Eh,"  cried  the  King,  "if  I'm  not  forgetting  the 
most  elementary  obligations  of  the  protocol ;  but  after 
fourteen  whiskeys,  and  good  whiskey,  too,  though  I've 
better  here.  .  .  .  Susy  don't  drink  any,  she  prefers 
gooseberry  syrup  .  .  .  queer  taste,  isn't  it?" 

Susy  saw  the  conversation  was  getting  away  from 
the  point,  so  repeated  her  request: 

"Introduce  me  to  your  friend." 

Frederick-Christian  glanced  at  his  companion  and 
then  burst  out  laughing : 

"What  is  your  name,  anyway?" 

Fandor  did  not  need  to  ask  that  question  of  the 
King.  The  moment  he  had  set  eyes  on  him  in  Raxim's 


he  recognized  in  the  sturdy  tippler  his  Majesty  Fred- 
erick-Christian II,  King  of  Hesse-Weimar,  on  one 
of  his  periodic  sprees.  It  was  this  fact  which  had 
made  him  break  his  rule  and  indulge  freely  himself. 

With  a  serious  air  he  explained : 

"Sum  fides  Achates !" 

"What's  that?"  cried  the  King. 

"Exactly." 

Susy  d'Orsel  now  thought  both  men  were  equally 
drunk.  She  fancied  they  were  having  fun  with  her. 

"You  know  I  don't  want  English  spoken  here,"  she 
said  drily. 

The  King  took  his  mistress  round  the  waist  and 
drew  her  to  him. 

"Now  don't  get  angry,  my  dear,  it's  only  our  fun, 
and  besides  it's  not  English,  it's  Latin  .  .  .  bonus 
.  .  .  Latinus  .  .  .  ancestribus  .  .  .  the  good  Latin  of 
our  ancestors!  .  .  .  the  Latin  of  the  Kitchen!  Cui- 
sinus  .  .  .  autobus  .  .  .  understand?" 

Turning  to  the  journalist  he  stretched  out  his  hand : 

"Well,  my  old  friend  Achates,  I'm  jolly  glad  to 
meet  you." 

"Achates  isn't  a  real  name,"  cried  Susy,  still  sus- 
picious. 

"Achates,"  explained  Fandor,  "is  an  individual  be- 
longing to  antiquity  who  became  famous  in  his  faithful 


24  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

friendship  for  his  companion  and  friend,  the  well- 
known  globe-trotter,  ^neas." 

"Come  and  sit  down,"  shouted  the  King,  as  he 
rapped  on  the  table  with  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

"Hurry  up,  Susy,  a  plate  and  glass  for  my  old 
friend,  whose  name  I  don't  know  .  .  .  because,  you 
see,  he's  no  more  Achates  than  I  am." 

"Oh,  no,  Madame,"  Fandor  hastened  to  say,  "I 
couldn't  think  of  putting  you  to  the  trouble,  besides 
spoiling  the  effect  of  your  charming  table.  In  fact, 
I  am  going  home  in  a  few  moments." 

"Not  on  your  life,"  shouted  the  King,  "you'll  stay 
to  the  very  end." 

"Well,  then,  a  glass  of  champagne,  that's  all  I'll 
take." 

By  degrees  Susy  had  become  reassured  in  regard  to 
the  young  man.  Although  slightly  drunk,  his  polite 
manner  and  good  form  pleased  her.  She  took  her 
place  on  the  divan  beside  the  King.  Fandor  sat  oppo- 
site them  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

Suddenly  Susy  rose  from  the  table. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  demanded  the  King. 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  moment  .  .  .  something  must  be 
open.  I  feel  a  draught  on  my  legs." 

"Why  not  show  us  your  legs!"  cried  Frederick- 
Christian,  and  turning  to  the  journalist  added : 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  25 

"She's  built  like  a  statue  ...  a  little  marvel." 

Susy  returned. 

"I  knew  it !  The  hall  door  was  open.  I  hope  no- 
body has  got  in." 

The  King  laughed  at  the  idea. 

"If  anyone  did,  let  him  come  and  join  us,  the  more 
the  merrier." 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  noise,"  continued  Susy,  but 
the  King  made  her  sit  down  again  beside  him  and 
the  supper  went  on. 

As  she  drank  glass  after  glass  of  wine,  she  became 
more  and  more  amiable  toward  Fandor.  And  since 
the  King  paid  little  attention  to  her  caresses,  she  be- 
gan a  flirtation  with  the  journalist  in  order  to  pique 
him. 

This  brought  a  frown  from  the  royal  lover,  and 
Susy  amused  herself  between  the  two  men  until  supper 
ended  and  they  all  adjourned  to  her  boudoir. 

Fandor,  who  had  now  become  more  sober,  decided 
it  was  time  to  take  his  leave. 

"Suppose  you  both  come  and  lunch  with  me  to- 
morrow, will  you?"  he  asked.  To  this  they  agreed 
and  it  was  finally  arranged  that  Fandor  should  call 
and  pick  them  up  at  one  o'clock  the  following  day. 

The  journalist  felt  his  way  downstairs  in  the  semi- 
darkness  and  was  just  about  to  ask  the  concierge  to  let 


26  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

him  out  when  he  was  startled  by  seeing  a  heavy 
form  fall  with  a  thud  onto  the  ground  of  the  inner 
court. 

With  a  gasp  of  alarm  the  young  man  rushed  for- 
ward and  quickly  realized  that  he  was  in  the  presence 
of  a  terrible  tragedy. 

Lying  on  the  ground,  inert,  was  the  body  of  Susy 
d'Orsel. 

The  unfortunate  girl  had  fallen  from  the  third 
floor. 

Without  hesitating,  he  lifted  the  body  and  finding 
no  sign  of  life,  cried  loudly  for  help. 

But  the  entire  house  was  asleep. 

What  was  to  be  done? 

Immediate  action  was  necessary.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  he  decided  to  take  the  unfortunate  girl  back  to 
her  own  apartment.  Arrived  at  the  door,  he  found  it 
locked  on  the  inside.  After  ringing  for  some  time, 
it  was  opened  finally  by  the  King.  At  the  sight  of 
Susy  apparently  lifeless,  her  head  hanging  backward, 
the  King  staggered  to  the  wall. 

He  wanted  to  ask  a  question,  but  the  words  stuck  in 
his  throat. 

Fandor  entered  the  bedroom  and  laying  Susy  down 
attempted  to  undo  her  corset. 

"Vinegar  and  some  water,"  he  ordered. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  27 

The  King  between  his  drunkenness  and  his  alarm 
was  quite  useless,  and  the  journalist,  after  applying  a 
mirror  to  the  girl's  nostrils  and  lips,  with  a  gesture  of 
despair  exclaimed: 

"Good  God,  she  is  dead !" 

However,  being  unwilling  to  risk  his  own  judgment, 
he  started  to  the  door  to  seek  aid. 

At  this  moment  a  violent  knocking  began  and  a 
voice  from  the  hall  cried  out : 

"What's  the  matter?  Is  anyone  hurt?  I'm  the 
concierge." 

"The  concierge !  Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Madame, 
get  a  doctor.  Mademoiselle  d'Orsel  has  killed  herself, 
or  at  least  she  is  very  badly  injured." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  Fandor's  mouth 
when  the  rapidly  disappearing  footsteps  of  the  con- 
cierge were  heard  clattering  downstairs.  Frederick- 
Christian,  in  a  dazed  condition,  stood  in  the  dining- 
room,  mechanically  drinking  a  liqueur. 

"Look  here,  what  does  this  mean?"  cried  Fandor. 

The  King  looked  at  him  with  intense  stupefaction, 
trying,  it  seemed,  to  co-ordinate  his  faculties.  Then, 
with  a  greater  calmness  than  in  his  condition  seemed 
possible,  he  replied : 

"Why,  I  haven't  the  least  idea." 

"But  .  .  .  what  have  you  done  since  I  left  you? 


28  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

You  were  both  seated  side  by  side  on  the  sofa.  How 
did  Susy  d'Orsel  come  to  fall  out  of  the  window? 
What  have  you  done?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  didn't  budge  from  the  sofa  until 
you  rang  the  bell." 

"But  .  .  .  Susy!" 

"She  left  me  for  a  moment.  I  thought  she  had 
gone  to  see  you  out." 

"That's  impossible  .  .  .  she  didn't  leave  you  .  .  » 
it's  you  who  .  .  .  for  God's  sake,  explain!  .  .  .  It's 
too  serious  a  business." 

The  King  seemed  unable  to  take  in  the  situation. 
Fandor  determined. to  try  a  shock.  Going  close  to  him 
he  spoke  in  a  low  voice: 

"I  beg  your  Majesty  to  tell  me." 

This  had  an  immediate  effect.  The  King  staggered 
back  and  stared,  wide-eyed. 

"I  ...  I  don't  understand." 

"Yes,"  insisted  Fandor,  "your  Majesty  does  under- 
stand. You  know  that  I  am  aware  in  whose  presence 
I  am  standing.  You  are  Frederick-Christian  II,  King 
of  Hesse- Weimar  .  .  .  and  I,  your  Majesty,  am  Je- 
rome Fandor,  reporter  on  La  Capitate  ...  a  jour- 
nalist." 

The  King  did  not  appear  to  attach  much  importance 
to  Fandor's  words.  Peaceably,  without  haste,  he  put 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  29 

on  his  overcoat  and  hat.  Then,  picking  up  his  cane, 
he  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Here!  what  are  you  doing?" 

"I'm  going." 

"You  can't." 

"Yes,  I  can ;  it's  all  right,  don't  worry,  I'll  arrange 
matters." 

The  King  appeared  so  calmly  confident  that  Fan- 
dor  stood  dumbfounded. 

Here  certainly  was  an  individual  out  of  the  com- 
mon !  The  journalist  had  seen  many  strange  happen- 
ings in  his  adventurous  career,  but  never  had  he  come 
across  such  an  amazing  situation.  For  now  he  had 
no  doubt  of  the  guilt  of  the  King.  What,  however, 
could  have  been  the  motive  of  such  odious  savagery? 
Was  it  possible  he  had  taken  seriously  the  innocent 
flirtation  between  Susy  and  himself?  Had  the  King 
taken  vengeance  upon  his  mistress  in  a  moment  of 
jealous  insanity? 

No,  that  was  out  of  the  question. 

In  spite  of  his  intoxication,  Frederick-Christian 
seemed  to  be  a  man  of  normal  temperament,  and  of  a 
kindly  disposition.  His  face  betrayed  none  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  drink-maddened. 

The  young  man  was  about  to  question  Frederick- 
Christian  further  when  the  hall  door  bell  rang  sharply. 


30  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Fandor  quickly  opened  the  door  and  let  in  two 
policemen. 

"Is  it  here  the  tragedy  took  place?" 

"What!    You  know  already?" 

"The  concierge  notified  us,  Monsieur." 

Then  turning  to  his  companion : 

"See  that  no  one  gets  out." 

"But  I've  sent  for  a  doctor.  ...  I  must  go  and  find 
one,"  cried  Fandor. 

"That  has  already  been  attended  to.  We  are  here 
to  ascertain  the  facts,  to  make  arrests.  Where  is  the 
victim  of  the  crime?" 

As  Fandor  took  the  officer  into  the  bedroom  he  ex- 
pected at  every  moment  to  hear  some  exclamation  at 
the  discovery  of  the  King.  But  the  latter  had  mys- 
teriously disappeared. 

The  officer  surveyed  the  body  of  the  young  woman 
and  seemed  in  doubt  how  to  begin  his  interrogatory. 
Suddenly  his  attention  was  diverted  to  the  vestibule, 
where  whispering  was  going  on. 

Both  men  quickly  returned  to  the  hall  door  and  Fan- 
dor  overheard  the  final  words  of  a  third  person  who 
had  entered  the  room,  evidently  the  concierge.  She 
was  saying : 

"It  must  be  'him'  .  .  .  only  treat  him  politely  .  .  . 
he  isn't  like  an  ordinary  ..." 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  31 

Upon  seeing  the  journalist  the  old  woman  stopped 
abruptly  and  made  him  a  deep  bow. 

"Ah,  it's  you,  Madame,"  cried  Fandor,  "well,  have 
you  brought  a  doctor?" 

"We're  looking  for  one,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  old 
woman,  "but  to-night  they  seem  to  be  all  out  enjoy- 
ing themselves." 

One  of  the  officers  turned  to  Fandor  and  spoke  with 
evident  embarrassment. 

"It  might  be  better  if  Monsieur  would  tell  us  ex- 
actly what  happened.  On  account  of  possible  annoy- 
ances .  .  .  besides,  the  business  is  too  important  .  .  . 
and  then  the  Government  .  .  ." 

Fandor  explained  briefly  all  he  knew.  He  was 
careful  not  to  mention  the  King  by  name,  leaving  it 
to  his  Majesty  to  disclose  his  own  identity  when  the 
time  came. 

"Then  Monsieur  means  to  say  that  a  third  person 
was  present?"  one  of  the  officers  asked. 

"Of  course!"  replied  Fandor. 

"And  where  is  this  third  person?" 

The  officer  looked  decidedly  skeptical  and  the  jour- 
nalist began  to  grow  uneasy. 

"He  was  here  with  me  just  now ;  probably  he's  in 
one  of  the  other  rooms.  Why  don't  you  search  ?" 

But  the  search  disclosed  nobody. 


32  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

What  on  earth  had  become  of  the  King?  thought 
Fandor.  He  couldn't  have  jumped  out  of  the  win- 
dow. The  servant's  staircase  came  into  his  mind,  but 
the  door  to  that  he  found  locked. 

"It  is  useless  for  Monsieur  to  say  more ;  kindly  come 
with  us  to  the  police  station." 

"After  all,  Monsieur  was  alone  with  the  little  lady," 
added  the  concierge. 

Fandor  went  rapidly  to  the  dining-room.  He  would 
show  the  three  places  at  the  table.  But  suddenly  he 
remembered  his  refusal  to  take  a  plate.  There  were 
only  two  places  laid. 

The  two  officers  now  held  him  gently  by  each  arm 
and  began  to  walk  away  with  him. 

"Don't  make  any  noise,  please,"  they  urged,  "we 
must  avoid  all  scandal." 

Without  quite  understanding  what  was  happening, 
Fandor  obeyed. 


CHAPTER   IV 

WHO  DO   THEY   THINK   I   AM  ? 

THE  first  faint  light  of  dawn  was  filtering  through 
the  dusty  windows  of  the  police  station. 

Sergeant  Masson,  pushing  aside  the  game 
of  dominoes  he  had  been  playing  with  his  subordinate, 
declared : 

"I  must  go  and  see  the  chief." 

"At  his  house?"  demanded  the  other  in  a  tone  of 
alarm. 

"Yes;  after  all,  if  I  catch  it  for  waking  him  that 
won't  be  so  bad  as  having  him  come  here  at  ten." 

The  sergeant  rose  and  stretched  himself.  He  had 
entire  charge  of  the  Station  and  was  responsible  for 
all  arrests.  As  a  rule  he  felt  himself  equal  to  the  task, 
but  this  time  the  tragedy  of  the  Rue  Monceau  and 
the  peculiar  circumstances  surrounding  it  seemed  too 
much  of  a  burden  to  bear  alone. 

Ought  he  to  have  arrested  the  individual  now  at  the 
Station  ?  Had  he  been  sufficiently  tactful  ?  What  was 
to  be  done  now? 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  see  the  chief,"  he  repeated,  "be- 

33 


34  A   ROYAL   PRISONER, 

sides,  I  shan't  be  gone  long.  Anything  that  'he'  asks 
for  let  him  have,  you  understand  ?" 

It  was  about  five-thirty,  and  the  sky  threatened 
snow.  The  air  was  fresh  and  not  too  cold.  A  few 
milk  carts  were  the  only  vehicles  in  the  streets.  Por- 
ters were  busy  brushing  off  the  sidewalks.  Paris  was 
making  her  toilette.  Sergeant  Masson  stopped  at  a 
small  house  in  a  quiet  street  and  mounted  to  the  third 
floor.  There  he  hesitated.  The  wife  of  the  chief  was 
known  for  her  sharp  temper.  However,  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  ring,  and  this  he  did  in  a  timid 
manner. 

In  a  few  moments  he  heard  the  door-chain  with- 
drawn, and  a  woman's  voice  cried: 

"Who  is  there?" 

"It  is  I,  Madame,  Sergeant  Masson." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

"The  chief  is  wanted  at  the  Station  right  away." 

At  these  words  the  door  opened  wide  and  the 
woman  stood  revealed.  She  was  about  forty, 
dressed  in  her  wrapper  and  with  her  hair  still  in  curl 
papers. 

"Louis  must  go  to  the  Station?"  she  demanded. 

"Yes,  Madame,  an  arrest  has  been  made  .  .  ." 

"He  must  go  to  the  Station?"  she  repeated  in  a 
menacing  tone. 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  35 

Sergeant  Masson  retreated  to  the  landing.  He 
simply  nodded  his  head. 

"But  he  is  there !  He  told  me  he  was !  Ah,  I  see 
how  it  is!  ...  He's  been  lying  again.  He's  been 
running  after  women  ...  all  right,  he'll  pay  for  it 
when  he  gets  home!" 

The  door  shut  with  a  bang  and  the  lady  disappeared. 

"What  an  idiot  I've  been,"  muttered  the  discomfited 
sergeant.  "I  ought  to  have  known  better.  Of  course 
he's  not  with  his  wife,  he's  with  his  mistress !" 

Several  minutes  later  he  reached  another  apartment 
in  a  neighboring  street. 

This  time  he  had  no  misgivings  and  congratulated 
himself  upon  his  professional  cleverness  in  tracking  his 
man  down. 

The  same  performance  was  gone  through.  A  ring 
at  the  bell  brought  an  answer  to  the  door. 

"Who  is  there?"  said  a  man's  voice. 

"It  is  I  ...  Sergeant  Masson." 

The  door  was  opened  and  a  young  man  stood  in  the 
hall.  He  was  about  thirty  and  wore  an  undershirt 
and  drawers. 

"Well,  Sergeant!" 

The  sergeant  shrank  back ;  he  would  have  been  glad 
if  he  could  have  disappeared  in  the  walls.  The  chief's 
secretary  stood  before  him. 


36  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"I  was  .  .  .  was  looking  .  .  . "  he  stammered. 

The  secretary  interrupted  with  a  smile. 

"No,  he's  not  here.  In  fact,  we  are  rarely  found 
together." 

Then  putting  a  hand  on  the  sergeant's  shoulder : 

"As  gentleman  to  gentleman,  I  count  on  your  dis- 
cretion." 

The  door  shut  softly  and  the  sergeant  turned  sadly 
and  went  back  to  the  Station,  pondering  over  the  per- 
sonal annoyance  this  general  post  at  night  occasioned 
him. 

He  was  greeted  on  his  return  by  a  few  sharp  words. 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  Masson !  ...  At  last !  ...  An 
event  of  the  first  importance  occurs,  an  amazing  scan- 
dal breaks  out  and  you  desert  your  post.  .  .  .  It's  al- 
ways the  way  if  I'm  not  here  to  look  after  things.  I 
shall  have  to  report  you,  you  know.  Where  have  you 
been?" 

The  speaker  was  a  man  still  quite  young,  who  wore 
the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  It  was  the  chief 
himself.  On  the  way  home  from  some  late  party 
he  had  dropped  into  the  Station  out  of  simple  curi- 
osity. 

Was  he  awake  or  was  he  dreaming? 

Fandor  felt  stiff  all  over,  his  head  was  heavy  and 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  37 

his  mind  a  blank.  .  .  .  And  then  came  a  thirst,  a  de- 
vouring, insatiable  thirst. 

Where  he  was  and  how  he  had  arrived  there  were 
things  past  his  comprehension. 

So  far  as  the  feeble  light  permitted,  he  made  out 
the  room  to  contain  the  furnishings  of  an  office,  and 
by  degrees,  as  his  mind  cleared,  he  recalled  with  a  start 
his  arrest. 

He  was  at  the  police  station. 

But  why  in  this  particular  room?  The  walls  were 
hung  with  sporting  prints.  Bookshelves,  a  comfort- 
able sofa,  upon  which  he  had  spent  the  night,  all  these 
indicated  nothing  less  than  the  private  office  of  the 
chief. 

And  then  he  recalled  with  what  consideration  he 
had  been  conducted  hither.  Evidently  they  took  him 
for  an  intimate  friend  of  the  King.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  under  arrest  for  murder,  or  at  least  as  an  accom- 
plice to  a  murder. 

"After  all,"  he  thought,  "the  truth  will  come  to 
light,  they'll  capture  the  murderer  and  my  innocence 
will  be  established. 

"Besides,  didn't  the  King  promise  to  see  me  through. 
Probably  before  this  he  has  already  taken  steps  for  my 
release." 

He  then  decided  to  call  out : 


38  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

'—-~——mm—-m*mmm-mmm~mmmi^^——m—a~m~m-m^-~~mm——m—m—*———l 

"Is  there  anyone  here?" 

Scarcely  had  Fandor  spoken  when  a  man  entered, 
who,  after  a  profound  bow  to  the  journalist,  drew  the 
curtains  apart. 

"You  are  awake,  Monsieur?" 

Fandor  was  amazed.  What  charming  manners  the 
police  had ! 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  awake,  but  I  feel  stiff  all  over." 

"That  is  easily  understood,  and  I  hope  you  will  par- 
don .  .  .  You  see,  I  didn't  happen  to  be  at  the  station 
.  .  .  and  when  I  got  here  .  .  .  why,  I  didn't  like  to 
wake  you." 

"They  take  me  for  a  friend  of  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar,"  thought  Fandor. 

"You  did  perfectly  right,  Monsieur  .  .  ." 

"M.  Perrajas,  District  Commissioner  of  Police  .  .  . 
and  the  circumstances  being  such  .  .  .  the  unfortunate 
circumstances  ...  I  imagine  it  was  better  that  you 
did  not  return  immediately  to  your  apartment  ...  in 
fact,  I  have  given  the  necessary  orders  and  in  a  few 
moments  .  .  .  the  time  to  get  a  carriage  ...  I  can, 
of  course,  rely  upon  the  discretion  of  my  men  who,  be- 
sides, are  ignorant  of  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right." 

Fandor  replied  in  a  non-committal  tone.  It  would 
be  wiser  to  avoid  any  compromising  admission.  A 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  39 

carriage! — what  carriage,  doubtless  the  Black  Maria 
to  take  him  to  prison.  And  what  did  he  mean  by 
'the  discretion  of  his  men  ?'  " 

"Well,"  thought  Fandor,  "he  can  count  upon  me. 
I  shan't  publish  anything  yet.  And  after  all,  it's  go- 
ing to  be  very  hard  for  me  to  prove  my  innocence. 
Since  I  must  rely  on  the  King  getting  me  out  of  this 
hole,  it  would  be  very  foolish  of  me  to  give  him 
away." 

"Besides,"  continued  the  officer,  "I  have  had  the 
concierge  warned;  she  has  received  the  most  positive 
orders  .  .  .  and  no  reporter  will  be  allowed  to  get 
hold  of  .  .  ." 

The  officer  became  confused  in  his  explanation. 

"The  incidents  of  last  night,"  added  Fandor. 

A  knock  at  the  door  and  Sergeant  Masson  entered. 

"The  coupe  is  ready." 

"Very  well,  Sergeant." 

Fandor  rose  and  was  about  to  put  on  his  over- 
coat, but  the  man  darted  forward  and  helped  him  on 
with  it. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  come  with  you,  Monsieur,  or 
would  you  prefer  to  return  alone?" 

"Oh,  alone,  thanks,  don't  trouble  yourself." 

The  door  was  opened  wide  by  the  polite  officer  and 
Fandor  passed  through  the  main  hall  of  the  Station, 


40  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

where  everyone  rose  and  bowed.  Getting  into  his  car- 
riage, he  was  disagreeably  surprised  to  see  an  indi- 
vidual who  appeared  to  be  a  plain  clothes  man  sitting 
on  the  seat.  In  addition  a  police  cyclist  fell  in  behind 
the  carriage  as  escort. 

"Where  the  devil  are  they  going  to  take  me?"  he 
wondered. 

To  his  intense  surprise,  they  stopped  ten  minutes 
later  at  the  Royal  Palace,  the  most  luxurious  hotel 
in  Paris. 

With  infinite  deference  he  was  then  conducted  to 
the  elevator  and  taken  to  the  first  floor. 

"Well,  this  lets  me  out,"  thought  Fandor.  "Evi- 
dently the  King  has  sent  for  me  .  .  .  in  a  few  minutes 
I  shall  be  free  .  .  .  what  a  piece  of  luck !" 

He  was  shown  into  a  sumptuous  apartment  and  there 
left  to  his  own  devices. 

"Wonder  what's  become  of  Frederick-Christian,"  he 
muttered,  after  a  wait  of  twenty  minutes.  "It's  worse 
than  being  at  the  dentist's." 

As  the  room  was  very  warm,  Fandor  removed  his 
overcoat  and  began  an  investigation  of  his  surround- 
ings. Upon  a  table  lay  several  illustrated  papers  and 
picking  one  up  he  seated  himself  comfortably  in  an 
armchair  and  began  to  read. 

Some  minutes  later  a  Major-domo  entered  the  room 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  41 

with  much  ceremony  and  silently  presented  him  with 
a  card.  This  turned  out  to  be  a  menu. 

"Well,  they're  not  going  to  let  me  starve  anyway," 
he  thought,  "and  as  long  as  the  King  has  asked  me  to 
breakfast,  I'll  accept  his  invitation." 

Choosing  several  dishes  at  random,  he  returned  the 
menu,  and  the  man,  bowing  deeply,  inquired : 

"Where  shall  we  serve  breakfast?     In  the  boudoir?" 

"Yes,  in  the  boudoir." 

The  bow  ended  the  interview  and  Fandor  was  once 
more  left  alone.  But  not  for  long.  Close  upon  the 
heels  of  the  first,  a  second  man  entered  and  handed 
the  journalist  a  telegram  and  withdrew. 

"Ah,  now  I  shall  get  some  explanation  of  all  this 
mystery!  This  should  come  from  the  King.  .  .  . 
Has  he  got  my  name  ?  ...  No !  ...  the  Duke  of  Ha- 
worth  .  .  .  evidently  the  name  of  the  individual  I  am 
supposed  to  represent." 

Fandor  tore  open  the  telegram  and  then  stared  in 
surprise.  Not  one  word  of  it  could  he  make  out.  It 
was  in  cipher ! 

"Why  the  deuce  was  this  given  to  me!  .  .  .  what 
does  the  whole  thing  mean?  Is  it  possible  they  take 
me  for  .  ." 


CHAPTER   V 

BY   THE   SINGING   FOUNTAINS 

PARIS  rises  very  late  indeed  on  New  Year's  Day. 
The  night  before  is  given  up  to  family  reunions, 
supper  parties  and  every  kind  of  jollification. 
So  the  year  begins  with  a  much  needed  rest.  The 
glitter  and  racket  of  the  streets  gives  place  to  a  death- 
like stillness.  Shops  are  shut  and  the  cafes  are  empty. 
Paris  sleeps.  There  is  an  exception  to  this  rule :  Cer- 
tain unfortunate  individuals  are  obliged  to  rise  at  day- 
break, don  their  best  clothes,  their  uniforms  and  make 
their  way  to  the  four  corners  of  the  town  to  pay 
ceremonial  calls. 

These  are  the  Government  officials  representing  the 
army,  the  magistracy,  the  parliament,  the  municipality 
— all  must  pay  their  respects  to  their  chiefs.  For  this 
hardship  they  receive  little  sympathy,  as  it  is  generally 
understood  that  while  they  have  to  work  hard  on 
New  Year's  Day,  they  do  nothing  for  the  rest  of  the 
year. 

The  somnolence  of  Paris,  however,  only  extends 
until  noon.  At  that  hour  life  begins  again.  It  is  lunch- 
eon time. 

42 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  43 

This  New  Year's  Day  differed  in  no  wise  from 
others,  and  during  the  afternoon  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  people. 

A  pale  sun  showed  in  the  gray  winter  sky  and  the 
crowd  seemed  to  be  converging  toward  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde.  Suddenly  the  blare  of  a  brass  band 
on  the  Rue  Royale  brought  curious  heads  to  the  win- 
dows. 

A  procession  headed  by  a  vari-colored  banner  was 
marching  toward  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  The  partici- 
pants wore  a  mauve  uniform  with  gold  trimmings  and 
upon  the  banner  was  inscribed  in  huge  letters: 

LA  CAPITALE 

THE  GREAT  EVENING  PAPER 

With  some  difficulty  the  musicians  reached  the  Obe- 
lisk and  at  the  foot  of  the  monument  they  formed  a 
circle,  while  at  a  distance  the  crowd  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

In  the  front  rank  two  young  women  were  standing. 

One  of  them  seemed  to  be  greatly  amused  at  the 
gratuitous  entertainment,  the  other  appeared  preoccu- 
pied and  depressed. 

"Come,  Marie  Pascal,  don't  be  so  absent-minded. 
You  look  as  if  you  were  at  a  funeral." 


44  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

The  other,  a  workgirl,  tried  to  smile  and  gave  a 
deep  sigh. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mademoiselle  Rose,  to  be  out  of  sorts, 
but  I  feel  very  upset." 

Two  police  officers  tried  to  force  their  way  to  the 
musicians  and  after  some  difficulty  they  succeeded  in 
arresting  the  flute  and  the  trombone  players. 

This  act  of  brutality  occasioned  some  commotion 
and  the  crowd  began  to  murmur. 

The  employes  of  La  Capitate  now  brought  up 
several  handcarts  and  improvised  a  sort  of  platform. 
Gentlemen  in  frock  coats  then  appeared  on  the  scene 
and  gathered  round  it.  One  or  two  were  recognized 
and  pointed  out  by  the  crowd. 

"There's  M.  Dupont,  the  deputy  and  director  of 
La  Capitale." 

A  red-faced  young  man  with  turned  up  moustaches 
was  pronounced  to  be  M.  de  Panteloup,  the  general 
manager  of  the  paper. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  those  who  read  La  Capitale 
had  been  advised  through  its  columns  that  an  attempt 
would  be  made  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the  Singing 
Fountains,  which  had  intrigued  Paris  for  so  many 
weeks.  A  small  army  of  newsboys  offered  the  paper 
for  sale  during  the  ceremony.  Marie  Pascal  bought  a 
copy  and  read  it  eagerly. 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  45 

"They  haven't  a  word  about  the  affair  yet,"  she 
cried. 

At  that  moment  the  powerful  voice  of  M.  de  Pante- 
loup  was  heard: 

"You  are  now  going  to  hear  an  interesting  speech 
by  the  celebrated  archivist  and  paleographer,  M.  Ana- 
stasius  Baringouin,  who,  better  than  anyone  else,  can 
explain  to  you  the  strange  enigma  of  the  Singing 
Fountains." 

An  immense  shout  of  laughter  greeted  the  orator 
as  he  mounted  the  steps  to  the  stage.  He  was  an  old 
man,  very  wrinkled  and  shaky,  wearing  a  high  hat 
much  too  large  for  his  head.  He  was  vainly  trying 
to  settle  his  glasses  upon  a  very  red  nose.  In  a  thin, 
sharp  voice,  he  began : 

"The  phenomenon  of  the  Singing  Fountains  is  not, 
as  might  be  supposed,  wholly  unexpected.  Similar  oc- 
currences have  already  been  noted  and  date  back  to 
remote  antiquity.  Formerly  a  stone  statue  was  erected 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  town  of  Thebes  to  the  memory 
of  Memnon.  When  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun  struck 
it,  harmonious  sounds  were  heard  to  issue  from  it.  At 
first  this  peculiarity  was  attributed  to  some  form  of 
trickery,  a  secret  spring  or  a  hidden  keyboard.  But 
upon  further  research,  it  was  demonstrated  that  the 
sounds  arose  from  purely  physical  and  natural  causes." 


46  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

The  crowd  which  hitherto  had  listened  in  silence 
to  the  orator  now  began  to  show  signs  of  impatience. 

"What  the  dickens  is  he  gassing  about?"  shouted 
some  one  in  the  street. 

As  the  savant  paid  no  attention  to  these  signs  the 
band  struck  up  a  military  march.  Finally  when  order 
was  re-established  M.  Panteloup  himself  mounted  the 
platform. 

"This  fountain,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began  in 
a  powerful  voice,  "was  built  in  1836  at  a  cost  of  a 
million  and  a  half  francs.  In  the  twenty-four  hours 
its  output  is  6,716  cubic  yards  of  water.  It  is  com- 
posed, as  you  can  see,  of  a  basin  of  polished  stone, 
decorated  by  six  tritons  and  nereids,  each  holding  a 
fish  in  its  mouth  from  which  the  water  flows  out. 
Thus  far  there  is  nothing  unusual  and  it  is  therefore 
with  justifiable  surprise  that  we  discover  the  fact  that 
at  certain  moments  these  fountains  actually  sing.  Are 
we  in  the  presence  of  a  phenomenon  similar  to  that 
recalled  just  now  by  M.  Anastasius  Baringouin  ?  Are 
we,  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century — the 
century  of  Science  and  Precision — victims  of  halluci- 
nation or  sorcery?  This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is 
what  we  are  about  to  investigate,  and  we  will  begin 
by  consulting  the  celebrated  clairvoyant,  Madame 
Gabrielle  de  Smyrne." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  47 

A  murmur  of  approbation  greeted  the  pretty 
prophetess  as  she  appeared,  but  at  the  same  mo- 
ment a  police  officer  followed  by  fifteen  men  pushed 
his  way  to  the  foot  of  the  platform  and  ordered 
M.  Panteloup  to  cease  attracting  a  crowd.  The  lat- 
ter, however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  After  lift- 
ing his  hand  for  silence  he  shouted  the  famous 
cry: 

"We  are  here  by  the  will  of  the  people,  we  shall 
not  go  away  except  by  force." 

The  crowd  cheered,  and  with  the  voices  mingled  the 
barking  of  dogs. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  continued  M.  Panteloup, 
"you  hear  the  wonderful  police  dogs  of  Neuilly,  Turk 
and  Bellone.  They  are  coming  to  help  us  to  scent 
out  the  mystery." 

This  was  to  be  the  termination  of  the  ceremony, 
but  an  unlocked  for  addition  to  the  program  appeared 
in  the  person  of  one  of  those  Parisian  "Natural  Men" 
or  "Primitive  Men." 

He  was  a  very  old,  long-bearded  man  and  wore  a 
white  robe.  He  went  by  the  name  of  Ouaouaoua,  and 
his  portrait  had  been  published  in  all  city  papers.  A 
hush  came  over  the  crowd  and  then  in  the  silence  a 
vague  metallic  murmur  was  heard  above  the  splash  of 
the  water. 


48  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

This  time  there  was  no  mistake.  The  Fountains 
were  singing. 

Thousands  of  witnesses  were  present  and  could 
testify  to  that  fact. 

The  crowd  at  once  associated  the  arrival  of  Oua- 
ouaoua  with  the  music  from  the  Fountains,  and  he 
was  acclaimed  the  hero  of  the  occasion. 

M.  de  Panteloup,  seized  with  a  happy  inspiration, 
shook  hands  with  Ouaouaoua  and  pinned  on  his  white 
robe  the  gold  medal  of  La  Capitate. 

Proceedings  were,  however,  summarily  brought  to  a 
stop  at  this  point.  The  prefect  of  the  police  drove  up 
and  his  men  scattered  the  crowd  in  all  directions. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  had 
assumed  its  usual  aspect  and  the  tritons  and  nereids 
continued  to  pour  out  their  6,716  cubic  yards  of  water 
every  twenty-four  hours. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   INVESTIGATION    BEGINS 

MVICART,  sub-director  of  the  Police  Depart- 
ment, was  in  an  execrable  humor. 

In  all  his  long  career  such  a  thing  had 
never  happened  before.  In  spite  of  the  established 
rule,  he  had  been  deprived  of  his  New  Year  holiday, 
which  he  usually  spent  in  visits  to  governmental  offi- 
cials capable  of  influencing  his  advancement. 

He  had  been  ordered  to  his  office.  His  morning 
had  been  spent  in  endless  discussions  with  M.  Annion, 
his  director.  Numerous  telegrams,  interviews,  work 
of  all  kinds  instead  of  his  customary  rest.  Besides, 
he  had  received  from  his  friends  only  318  visiting 
cards  instead  of  384,  last  year's  number.  It  was  most 
annoying.  He  was  engaged  in  recounting  his  cards 
when  a  clerk  announced  the  visit  of  detective  Juve. 

"Send  him  in  at  once." 

In  a  few  moments  Juve  entered. 

Juve  had  not  changed.  In  spite  of  his  forty-odd 
years,  he  was  still  young  looking,  active,  persevering 
and  daring. 

49 


50  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

For  some  time  past  he  had  been  left  very  much  to 
his  own  devices  in  his  tracking  of  the  elusive  Fan- 
tomas,  and  he  was  rarely  called  in  to  assist  in  the  pur- 
suit of  other  criminals.  Therefore  he  realized  that  it 
was  an  affair  of  the  very  first  importance  which  called 
for  his  presence  in  M.  Vicart's  office. 

The  detective  found  M.  Vicart  seated  at  his  desk  in 
the  badly  lighted  room. 

"My  dear  Juve,  you  are  probably  surprised  at  be- 
ing sent  for  to-day." 

"A  little  .  .  .  yes." 

"Well,  you  probably  know  that  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar,  Frederick-Christian  II,  has  been  staying  in- 
cognito in  Paris?" 

Juve  nodded.  He  did  not  think  it  necessary  to 
mention  the  incident  that  had  occasioned  this  visit.1 

"Now,  Christian  II  has,  or  rather  had,  a  mistress, 
Susy  d'Orsel,  a  demi-mondaine.  Were  you  aware  of 
that?" 

"No,  what  of  it?" 

"This  woman  has  been  murdered  ...  or  rather 
.  .  .  has  not  been  murdered  .  .  .  you  understand, 
Juve,  has  not  been  murdered." 

"Has  not  been  murdered,  very  well!" 

"Now,  this  woman  who  has  not  been  murdered 


See  "A  Nest  of  Spies." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  51 

threw  herself  out  of  the  window  last  night  at  three 
o'clock;  in  a  word,  she  committed  suicide,  at  the  pre- 
cise moment  when  Frederick-Christian  was  taking 
supper  with  her  .  .  .  you  grasp  my  meaning?" 

"No,  I  don't.     What  are  you  trying  to  get  at  ?" 

"Why,  it's  as  clear  as  day,  Juve  .  .  .  the  scandal! 
especially  as  the  local  magistrate  had  the  stupidity  to 
arrest  the  King." 

"The  King  has  been  arrested  ...  I  don't  under- 
stand! Then  it  wasn't  suicide?" 

"That  is  what  must  be  established." 

"And  I  am  to  take  charge  of  the  investigation?" 

"I  put  it  in  your  hands." 

When  M.  Vicart  had  explained  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  Juve  summed  up: 

"In  a  word,  Frederick-Christian  II  went  to  see  his 
mistress  last  night,  she  threw  herself  out  of  the  win- 
dow, the  King  was  arrested  for  murder;  he  put  in  a 
denial,  claiming  that  a  third  person  was  present,  this 
third  person  escaped,  an  inadmissible  hypothesis,  since 
nobody  saw  him  and  the  door  to  the  servant's  stair- 
case was  locked  .  .  .this  morning  the  King  was  set  at 
liberty,  and  we  have  now  to  find  out  whether  a  crime 
was  really  committed  or  whether  it  was  a  case  of 
suicide.  ...  Is  that  it?" 

"That  is  it!    But  you're  going  ahead  pretty  fast. 


52  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

You  don't  realize,  Juve,  the  seriousness  of  the  suppo- 
sition you  formulate  so  freely.  .  .  .  You  must  know 
whether  it's  murder  or  suicide !  Of  course!  Of  course! 
.  .  .  but  you  are  too  precise.  ...  A  King  a  mur- 
derer .  .  .  that  isn't  possible.  There  would  be  ter- 
rible diplomatic  complications.  .  .  .  It's  a  case  of  sui- 
cide. .  .  .  Susy  d'Orsel  committed  suicide  beyond  a 
doubt." 

Juve  smiled  slightly. 

"That  has  to  be  proved,  hasn't  it?" 

"Certainly  it  must  be  proved.  The  accident  hap- 
pened at  number  247  Rue  de  Monceau.  Go  there, 
question  the  concierge  .  .  .  the  only  witness.  ...  In 
a  word,  bring  us  the  proof  of  suicide  in  written  form. 
We  can  then  send  a  report  to  the  press  and  stifle  the 
threatened  scandal." 

Juve  rose. 

"I  will  begin  an  immediate  investigation,"  he  re- 
plied, smiling,  "and  M.  Vicart,  you  may  depend  upon 
me  to  use  all  means  in  my  power  to  clear  up  the 
affair  .  .  .  entirely  and  impartially." 

When  Juve  had  gone,  M.  Vicart  realized  a  sense  of 
extreme  uneasiness. 

"Impartially!  ...  the  deuce!" 

Hurriedly  he  left  his  office  and  made  his  way 
through  the  halls  to  his  chief,  M.  Annion.  His  first 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  53 

care  must  be  to  cover  his  own  responsibility  in  the 
matter. 

M.  Annion,  cold  and  impassive,  listened  to  his  re- 
cital in  silence  and  then  broke  out: 

"You  have  committed  a  blunder,  M.  Vicart.  I  told 
you  this  morning  to  put  a  detective  on  the  case  who 
would  bring  us  a  report  along  the  lines  that  we  desire. 
I  pointed  out  to  you  the  gravity  of  the  situation." 

"But  ..."  protested  M.  Vicart. 

"Let  me  finish.  ...  I  thought  I  had  made  myself 
quite  clear  on  that  point  and  now,  you  actually  give 
the  commission  to  Juve !" 

"Exactly,  Monsieur!  I  gave  Juve  the  commission 
because  he  is  our  most  expert  detective." 

"That.  I  don't  deny,  and  therefore  Juve  is  certain 
to  discover  the  truth!  It  is  an  unpardonable  blun- 
der." 

At  this  moment  a  clerk  entered  with  a  telegram.  M. 
Annion  opened  it  quickly  and  read  it. 

"Ah!  this  is  enough  to  bring  about  the  fall  of  the 
Ministry.  Listen !" 

"The  Minister  of  Hesse- Weimar  to  the  Secretary 
of  the  Interior,  Place  Beauvau,  Paris — Numerous  tele- 
grams addressed  to  his  Majesty  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar,  at  present  staying  incognito  at  the  Royal 
Palace  Hotel,  Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees,  remain 


54  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

unanswered,  in  spite  of  their  extreme  urgence.  The 
Minister  of  Hesse-Weimar  begs  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior  of  France  to-  kindly  make  inquiries  and  to 
send  him  the  assurance  that  his  Majesty  the  King  of 
Hesse-Weimar  is  in  possession  of  these  diplomatic  tele- 
grams." 

M.  Annion  burst  out 

"There  now !  Pretty  soon  they'll  be  accusing  us  of 
intercepting  the  telegrams  .  .  .  Frederick-Christian 
doesn't  answer !  How  can  I  help  that !  I  suppose  he's 
weeping  over  the  death  of  his  mistress.  And  now 
that  fellow  Juve  has  taken  a  hand  in  it!  I  tell  you, 
Monsieur  Vicart,  we're  in  a  nice  fix!" 

While  M.  Annion  was  unburdening  his  mind  to  M. 
Vicart,  Juve  left  the  Ministry  whistling  a  march,  and 
hailed  a  cab  to  take  him  to  the  Rue  Monceau. 

He  quite  understood  what  was  required  of  him,  but 
his  professional  pride,  his  independence  and  his  in- 
nate honesty  of  purpose  determined  him  to  ferret  out 
the  truth  regardless  of  consequences. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  presence  of  the  King  in 
Paris  was,  in  part,  to  render  a  service  to  Juve  him- 
self.1 

If,  therefore,  the  hypothesis  of  suicide  could  be 
verified,  Juve  would  be  able  to  be  of  use  to  the  King; 
i  See  "Fantomas,"  Vols.  I,  II,  III,  IV. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  55 

if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  had  to  be  rejected,  his  report 
would  prove  that  fact. 

On  arriving  at  the  Rue  de  Monceau,  Juve  went 
straight  to  the  concierge's  office  and  having  shown 
his  badge,  began  to  question  her : 

"Tell  me,  Madame  Ceiron,  did  you  see  the  King 
when  he  came  to  pay  his  visit  to  his  mistress  ?" 

"No,  Monsieur.  I  saw  nothing  at  all.  I  was  in 
bed  .  .  .  the  bell  rang,  I  opened  the  door  .  .  .  the 
King  called  out  as  usual,  'the  Duke  of  Haworth' — 
it's  the  name  he  goes  by — and  then  he  went  upstairs, 
but  I  didn't  see  him." 

"Was  he  alone?" 

"Ah,  that's  what  everyone  asks  me!  Of  course  he 
was  alone  .  .  .  the  proof  being  that  when  they  went 
up  and  found  poor  Mile.  Susy,  nobody  else  was  there, 
so.  .  ." 

Juve  interrupted: 

"All  right.  Now,  tell  me,  did  Mile.  Susy  d'Orsel 
expect  any  other  visitor?  Any  friend?" 

"Nobody  that  I  knew  of  ...  at  least  that's  what 
she  said  to  her  lace-maker — one  of  my  tenants  .  .  . 
a  very  good  young  girl,  Mile.  Marie  Pascal —  She 
said  like  this — 'I'm  expecting  my  lover/  but  she  men- 
tioned nobody  else." 

"And  this  Marie  Pascal  is  the  last  person  who  saw 


56  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

Susy  d'Orsel  alive,  excepting,  of  course,  the  King? 
The  servants  had  gone  to  bed?" 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  the  maid  wasn't  there.  Justine 
came  down  about  eleven,  she  said  good-night  to  me  as 
she  went  by  ...  while  Marie  Pascal  didn't  go  up  be- 
fore eleven-thirty  or  a  quarter  to  twelve." 

"Very  well,  I'll  see  Mile.  Pascal  later.  Another 
question,  Mme.  Ceiron :  did  any  of  your  tenants  leave 
the  house  after  the  crime  ...  I  mean  after  the 
death?" 

"No,  Monsieur." 

"Mile.  Susy  d'Orsel's  apartment  is  reached  by  two 
staircases.  Do  you  know  if  the  door  to  the  one  used 
by  the  servants  was  locked  ?" 

"That  I  can't  tell  you,  Monsieur,  all  I  know  is  that 
Justine  generally  locked  it  when  she  went  out." 

"And  while  you  were  away  hunting  the  doctor 
and  the  police,  did  you  leave  the  door  of  the  house 
open  ?" 

"Ah,  no,  Monsieur,  to  begin  with,  I  didn't  go  out. 
I  have  a  telephone  in  my  room,  besides  I  never  leave 
the  door  open." 

"Is  Justine  in  her  room  now?" 

"No,  I  have  the  key,  which  means  that  she's  out 
.  .  .  she's  probably  looking  after  funeral  arrangements 
of  the  poor  young  girl." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  57 

"Mile.  d'Orsel  had  no  relations?" 

"I  don't  think  so,  Monsieur." 

"Is  Marie  Pascal  in?" 

"Yes  .  .  .  sixth  floor  to  the  right  at  the  end  of  the 
hall." 

"Then  I  will  go  up  and  see  her.  Thanks  very  much 
for  your  information,  Madame." 

"You're  very  welcome,  Monsieur.  Ah,  this 
wretched  business  isn't  going  to  help  the  house.  I 
still  have  two  apartments  unrented." 

Juve  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  good  woman's  lamen- 
tations but  hurriedly  climbed  the  flights  of  stairs  and 
knocked  on  the  door  indicated. 

It  was  opened  by  a  young  girl. 

"Mademoiselle  Marie  Pascal?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Can  I  see  you  for  a  couple  of  minutes?  I  am  a 
detective  and  have  charge  of  investigating  the  death 
of  Mile.  d'Orsel." 

Mile.  Pascal  led  the  way  into  her  modest  room, 
which  was  bright  and  sunny  with  a  flowered  paper  on 
the  walls,  potted  plants  and  a  bird-cage.  She  then 
began  a  recital  of  the  interview  she  had  had  with  Susy. 
This  threw  no  fresh  light  upon  the  case  and  at  the 
end,  Juve  replied: 

"To  sum  it  up,  Mademoiselle,  you  know  only  one 


58  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

thing,  that  Mile.  d'Orsel  was  waiting  for  her  lover, 
that  she  told  you  she  was  not  very  happy,  but  did 
not  appear  especially  sad  or  cast  down  ...  in  fact, 
neither  her  words  nor  her  attitude  showed  any  thought 
of  attempted  suicide.  Am  I  not  right  ?" 

Marie  Pascal  hesitated;  she  seemed  worried  over 
something;  at  length  she  spoke  up: 

"I  do  know  more." 

"What?" 

Juve,  to  cover  the  young  girl's  confusion,  had  turned 
his  head  away  while  putting  the  last  question. 

"Why,"  he  remarked,  "you  can  see  Mile.  d'Orsel's 
apartment  from  your  windows!" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  and  that  .  .  ." 

"Were  you  in  bed  when  the  suicide  took  place?" 

"No  ...  I  was  not  in  bed,  I  saw  ..." 

"Ah !     You  saw !     What  did  you  see  ?" 

"Monsieur,  I  haven't  spoken  to  a  soul  about  it;  in 
fact,  I'm  not  sure  I  wasn't  mistaken,  it  all  happened 
so  quickly.  ...  I  was  getting  a  breath  of  fresh  air 
at  the  window,  I  noticed  her  apartment  was  lighted 
up,  I  could  see  that  through  the  curtains,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  her  lover  must  have  arrived." 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"Then  suddenly  some  one  pulled  back  the  hall-win- 
dow curtains,  then  the  window  was  flung  open  and 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  59 

I  thought  I  saw  a  man  holding  Mile.  d'Orsel  by  the 
shoulders  .  .  .  she  was  struggling  but  without  crying 
out  .  .  .  finally  he  threw  her  out  of  the  window, 
then  the  light  was  extinguished  and  I  saw  nothing 
more." 

"But  you  called  for  help?" 

"Ah,  Monsieur,  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  act  as  I  should 
have.  I  lost  my  head,  you  understand  ...  I  left  my 
room  and  was  on  my  way  downstairs  to  help  the 
poor  woman  .  .  .  and  then  I  heard  voices,  doors  slam- 
ming ...  I  was  afraid  the  murderer  might  kill  me, 
too,  so  I  hurried  back  to  my  room." 

"According  to  you,  then,  it  was  not  a  suicide?" 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur  ...  I  am  quite  sure  she  was 
thrown  out  of  the  window  by  some  man." 

"Some  man?  But,  Mademoiselle,  you  know  Susy 
d'Orsel  was  alone  with  the  King,  so  that  man  must  be 
the  King." 

Marie  Pascai  gave  a  dubious  shrug. 

"You  know  the  King?"  Juve  asked. 

"Yes,  I  sold  him  laces.  I  saw  him  through  an  open 
door." 

"And  you  are  not  sure  that  he  is  or  is  not  the  mur- 
derer?" 

"No,  I  don't  know,  that's  why  I've  said  nothing 
about  it.  I'm  not  sure  of  anything." 


60  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Pardon,  Mademoiselle,  but  it  seems  to  me  you  don't 
quite  grasp  the  situation  .  .  .  what  is  it  you  aie  not 
sure  of?" 

"Whether  it  was  the  King  who  killed  poor  Mile. 
Susy." 

"But  you  are  sure  it  was  a  man  who  killed  Mile. 
d'Orsel?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  .  .  .  and  I  am  also  sure  it  was  a 
thin,  tall  man  ...  in  fact,  some  one  of  the  same  build 
as  the  King." 

"Well,  Mademoiselle,  I  cannot  see  why  you  have 
kept  this  knowledge  to  yourself,  it  is  most  important, 
for  it  does  away  with  the  theory  of  suicide,  it  proves 
that  a  crime  has  been  committed." 

"Yes,  but  if  it  wasn't  the  King,  it  would  be  terrible 
to  suspect  him  unjustly  .  .  .  that  is  what  stopped 
me  .  ,  ." 

"It  must  no  longer  stop  you.  If  the  King  is  a  mur- 
derer, he  must  be  punished  like  any  other  man ;  if  he  is 
innocent,  the  guilty  man  must  be  caught.  You  haven't 
spoken  of  this  to  the  concierge?" 

Marie  Pascal  smiled. 

"No,  Monsieur,  Mme.  Ceiron  is  rather  a  gossip." 

"I  understand,  but  now  you  need  keep  silence  no 
longer;  in  fact,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  spread 
your  news  .  .  .  talk  of  it  freely  and  I,  on  my  side, 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  61 

will  notify  my  chief.  ...  I  may  add  that  we  shall  not 
be  long  in  clearing  up  this  mystery." 

Juve  had  a  reason  for  giving  this  advice.  The  more 
gossip,  the  less  chance  would  the  police  department 
have  to  stifle  the  investigation. 

Marie  Pascal  slept  badly  that  night.  She  was  too 
intelligent  not  to  realize  that  her  deposition  had  con- 
vinced Juve  of  the  guilt  of  the  King,  and  this  troubled 
her  greatly.  She,  herself,  was  persuaded  that  she  had 
seen  the  King  throw  Susy  out  of  the  window,  although 
she  had  had  no  time  to  identify  him  positively  and  the 
young  girl  was  alarmed  at  the  importance  of  her  tes- 
timony. 

However,  she  determined  to  follow  Juve's  advice 
and  spread  the  gossip.  With  that  purpose  she  went 
down  to  see  Mother  Ceiron.  As  the  concierge  was 
not  in  her  room  she  called  through  the  hallway: 

"Madame  Ceiron!  .  .  .  Madame  Ceiron!" 

'A  man's  voice  answered  and  a  laundryman  came 
downstairs  carrying  a  basket. 

"The  concierge  is  on  the  sixth  floor,  Madamoiselle. 
I  passed  her  as  I  was  going  up  to  get  M.  de  Serac's 
laundry." 

"Ah,  thank  you,  then  I  will  wait  for  her." 

Marie  Pascal  took  a  seat  in  the  office,  but  at  the  end 


62  A   ROYAL    PRISONER 

of  ten  minutes  she  became  bored  and  decided  to  go  out 
and  get  a  breath  of  the  fresh  morning  air. 

As  she  reached  the  entrance  she  noticed  an  article 
of  clothing  lying  on  the  ground. 

"A  woman's  chemise,"  she  exclaimed,  picking  it  up. 
"The  laundryman  must  have  dropped  it." 

Then  suddenly  she  grew  pale  and  retraced  her  steps 
to  the  office. 

"Good  God!"  she  cried,  leaning  for  support  upon 
the  back  of  a  chair. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   KING  RECEIVES 

•  |   ^HE  elegant  attache  of  the  Secretary  for  Foreign 

|       Affairs  bowed,  saying: 

"I  am  extremely  sorry  to  bring  your  Majesty 
this  bad  news." 

A  voice  from  the  depth  of  the  cushions  inquired : 

"What  bad  news?" 

"I  am  telling  your  Majesty  that  it  would  be  difficult 
— even  impossible  for  you  to  go  to  the  Longchamps 
races  as  you  had  the  intention  of  doing." 

"And  why  not?" 

"The  President  of  the  Republic  opens  to-day  the 
exposition  at  the  Bagatelle  Museum.  If  your  Majesty 
went  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  you  would  run  the  risk 
of  meeting  him.  You  would  then  be  obliged  to  stop 
find  talk  a  few  moments,  but  as  this  interview  has  not 
been  foreseen  and  arranged  for  it  would  be  very  awk- 
ward." 

"That  is  true." 

"That  is  all  I  had  to  convey  to  your  Majesty." 

"Let  me  see,  what  is  your  name,  Monsieur?" 

"I  am  Count  Adhemar  de  Candieres,  your  Majesty." 

63 


64  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Well,  Count,  many  thanks!    You  may  retire." 

The  Count  gracefully  bowed  himself  out  and  with  a 
convulsive  movement  of  the  cushions  Jerome  Fandor 
sprang  up  and  burst  out  laughing. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  "I  thought  that  chap  would  never 
go!  Your  Majesty!  .  .  .  Sire  .  .  .  the  King  .  .  . 
pleasant  names  to  be  called  when  you're  not  accustomed 
to  them.  I've  already  had  twenty-four  hours  of  it, 
and  if  it  goes  on  much  longer  I  shall  begin  to  think 
it's  not  a  joke. 

"And  the  King  himself,  what's  become  of  him  .  .  . 
what  is  Frederick-Christian  II  doing  now  .  .  .  that's 
something  I'd  like  to  find  out." 

The  journalist  had  indeed  sufficient  food  for  thought. 
From  the  dawn  of  NW  Year's  Day  he  had  gone  from 
surprise  to  surprise.  At  first  he  thought  he  had  been 
brought  to  the  Royal  Palace  Hotel  at  the  instigation  of 
the  King.  That  would  have  been  the  simple  solution  of 
the  affair.  The  King  must  have  realized  the  awkward 
predicament  in  which  his  companion  was  placed  and  in 
spite  of  his  drunken  stupor  he  would  come  to  his  as- 
sistance as  soon  as  possible.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Fan- 
dor  had  been  set  at  liberty.  The  journalist  therefore 
had  waited  patiently  for  the  arrival  of  the  King,  who 
was  unaccountably  late. 

Then  little  by  little  it  began  to  dawn  on  him  that 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  65 

the  hotel  people  were  considering  him  not  as  a  friend 
of  the  King  but  as  the  King  himself !  Under  ordinary 
circumstances,  he  would  at  once  have  made  his  identity 
known,  but  against  that  there  were  now  a  multitude 
of  objections.  His  presence  in  the  apartment  of  the 
murdered  Susy  d'Orsel  had  created  an  ambiguous  and 
disagreeable  situation.  Again,  was  the  personnel  of 
the  hotel  really  duped  by  the  substitution? 

The  situation  was  becoming  more  and  more  difficult 
for  Fandor.  He  realized  that  he  was  being  watched. 
The  evening  before  one  of  the  clerks  of  the  Royal 
Palace  Hotel  had  informed  him  that  his  Majesty's 
automobile  was  ready.  For  a  moment  Fandor  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  but  finally  decided  to  take  a  chance 
for  an  outing.  As  soon  as  he  had  come  downstairs 
he  regretted  his  decision.  Among  the  persons  lounging 
in  the  lobby  he  recognized  five  or  six  detectives  whom 
he  had  known  and  he  realized  that  the  police  would 
have  accurate  information  as  to  where  he  might  go. 
On  reaching  the  door  he  saw  three  or  four  automobiles 
lined  up  outside.  Which  one  belonged  to  the  King? 
Faced  by  this  situation  he  acted  without  hesitation,  he 
turned  quickly  and  went  back  to  the  Royal  apartment, 
where  during  the  rest  of  the  evening  he  had  been  left 
in  peace.  The  following  morning  he  awoke  with  a 
violent  headache,  and  applied  the  usual  remedy  for  the 


66  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

neuralgia  to  which  he  was  subject.  He  bound  up  his 
head  with  a  large  silk  scarf  which  he  found  in  the  Royal 
wardrobe.  During  the  course  of  the  morning  his  hotel 
bill  was  brought  to  him,  which  amounted  to  four  thou- 
sand francs. 

"Pretty  stiff,"  he  muttered,  "for  three  days'  stay.  It 
may  be  all  right  for  Frederick-Christian  II,  but  for 
a  poor  devil  of  a  journalist  it  is  rather  awkward." 

Fandor  was  wondering  what  he  should  do  about  it 
when  the  telephone  rang  to  announce  a  visitor.  After 
listening  at  the  receiver,  his  face  suddenly  lighted  with 
a  broad  smile. 

"Show  him  up,"  he  answered. 

Several  moments  afterwards  a  man  entered  the 
apartment  He  was  about  forty  and  wore  the  conven- 
tional frock  coat  and  light  gloves. 

"I  am,"  he  said,  "the  private  secretary  of  the  Comp- 
toir  National  de  Credit  and  am  at  your  Majesty's  dis- 
position for  the  settlement  of  accounts.  Your  Majesty 
will  excuse  our  sub-director  for  not  having  come  him- 
self to  take  your  orders  as  it  is  his  pleasure  and  honor 
generally  to  do,  but  he  has  been  ill  for  several  days 
and  that  is  why  I  have  begged  permission  for  this 
audience  with  your  Majesty." 

Fandor  with  difficulty  repressed  his  desire  to  laugh 
and  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  escaped  the 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  67 

danger  of  being  shown  up  by  the  sub-director  who 
knew  the  real  King.  The  Secretary  brought  with  him 
a  large  sum  of  money  which  he  placed  at  the  disposal 
of  the  sovereign.  For  a  moment  Fandor  was  tempted 
to  accept  the  money  but  his  scruples  held  him  back. 
If  things  should  turn  out  badly  it  would  not  do  to 
lay  himself  open  to  the  charge  of  usurping  the 
Royal  funds  as  well  as  the  personality  of  the  King. 
So  he  limited  himself  to  handing  over  the  hotel  bill, 
saying : 

"Kindly  settle  this  without  delay  and  don't  stint 
yourself  with  the  tips." 

A  little  later  a  porter  entered  with  newspapers. 
Fandor  seized  them  eagerly,  but  after  a  single  glance 
he  could  not  repress  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"These  idiots,"  he  growled  to  himself,  "always  bring 
me  the  Hesse-Weimar  papers,  and  I  don't  know  a 
confounded  word  of  German.  What  I  would  like  to 
get  hold  of  is  a  copy  of  La  Capitale." 

He  rang  the  bell  intending  to  give  the  order  for  a 
copy  to  be  sent  up,  but  at  that  moment  a  servant  an- 
nounced : 

"Mile.  Marie  Pascal  is  here,  your  Majesty." 

"What  does  she  want?" 

The  servant  handed  Fandor  a  letter. 

"Your  Majesty  has  granted  an  interview  to  her." 


68  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Without  thinking  the  journalist  asked:  "Is  she 
pretty?" 

The  employe  of  the  Royal  Palace  kept  a  straight 
face.  He  was  too  much  in  the  habit  of  dealing  with 
royal  patrons.  The  King  might  joke  as  much  as  he 
pleased,  but  the  same  liberty  was  not  granted  to  others. 
He  therefore  made  a  deep  bow  and  said  with  a  tone 
of  profound  deference : 

"I  will  send  Marie  Pascal  to  your  Majesty." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MARIE  PASCAL 

NOW  that  he  had  become  a  King  and  was  obliged 
to  receive  unexpected  visits  in  that  capacity, 
Fandor  had  adopted  the  wise  precaution  of 
making  his  visitors  wait  in  the  main  Salon,  while  he 
retired  to  the  adjoining  study.  From  there,  thanks 
to  a  large  mirror,  he  could  see  them  without  being 
seen  himself.  Following  this  precaution  he  waited  for 
the  appearance  of  his  visitor  and  scarcely  had  she  set 
foot  in  the  Salon  when  he  experienced  an  agreeable 
surprise. 

"Ah,  there's  a  pretty  girl." 

He  was  right.  She  was  charming,  with  her  large 
clear  blue  eyes,  her  fair  hair  and  slight  figure. 

"By  Jove,"  thought  Fandor,  "here's  a  way  to  fill 
up  my  hours  of  solitude.  It  oughtn't  to  be  hard  for 
one  in  my  position  to  get  up  an  intrigue,  and  provided 
the  lady  is  not  too  shy  I  can  begin  one  of  those  ad- 
ventures one  reads  of  in  fairy  stories." 

Covering  his  face  still  further  with  his  scarf  and 
putting  on  a  pair  of  blue  spectacles  he  entered  the 

Salon.     The  young  girl  betrayed  a  slight  movement 

69 


70  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

of  surprise  upon  seeing  him.  At  his  silent  invitation 
she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  an  armchair  without 
daring  to  raise  her  eyes.  Then  followed  a  long  pause, 
until  Fandor  recollected  that  according  to  etiquette  she 
was  waiting  for  him  to  speak  first. 

"Well,  Mademoiselle,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

The  young  girl  stammered:  "I  wanted  to  see  you 
.  .  .  pardon  .  .  .  to  see  your  Majesty  .  .  .  to  tell  him 
how  grateful  I  am  for  the  laces  he  ordered  from  me 
.  .  .  that  your  Majesty  ordered." 

Fandor  began  to  be  amused  at  the  embarrassment 
of  the  young  girl,  so  to  set  her  at  ease  he  remarked : 

"Mademoiselle,  just  talk  to  me  as  you  would  to  any- 
one else,  and  as  for  the  laces,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
order  others." 

A  start  of  surprise  from  Marie  Pascal  gave  Fandor 
the  uneasy  feeling  that  he  had  made  a  break. 

"Then,  your  Majesty,  I  suppose  I  must  send  the  next 
lot  to  the  Queen." 

"Of  course." 

"How  about  the  bill?" 

Fandor  repressed  a  smile.  Evidently  these  poor 
Kings  must  have  one  hand  in  their  pockets.  As  the 
interview  continued  the  young  girl  regained  her  con- 
fidence, and  going  close  to  Fandor,  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
sincere  anxiety: 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  71 

"Sire,  it  was  not  you  ...  oh,  forgive  me."  And 
then  in  a  lower  tone:  "I  have  denounced  you,  Sire." 

Then,  dropping  to  her  knees,  Marie  Pascal  repeated 
all  that  had  happened.  Fandor  now  realized  that  the 
death  of  Susy  d'Orsel  had  a  witness  and  that  a  detective 
was  now  in  possession  of  the  facts. 

"And  this  detective!  Is  he  tall,  broad  shouldered, 
about  forty-five,  with  gray  hair  and  clean  shaven?" 

The  young  girl  was  astonished  at  the  accuracy  of 
the  portrait. 

"Why,  yes,  Sire  .  .  .  your  Majesty  is  right." 

"It  can  be  no  other  than  Juve,"  thought  Fandor 
joyfully.  Then  turning  to  Marie  Pascal,  "Now  you 
must  answer  truthfully  the  question  I  am  going  to  ask 
you.  Will  you  tell  me  why,  after  accusing  me  of  this 
dreadful  crime,  you  have  suddenly  changed  your  opin- 
ion and  come  to  tell  me  how  sorry  you  are  and  that 
you  are  now  sure  I  am  not  guilty?  You  must  have 
very  serious  reasons  for  this  change  of  front." 

"I  have  been  convinced  of  your  innocence,"  she  re- 
plied, "by  the  most  absolute  proof."  She  then  re- 
counted to  Fandor  her  discovery  of  the  chemise  be- 
longing to  the  Marquis  de  Serac. 

"After  picking  up  this  chemise  I  was  about  to  give 
it  over  to  Mme.  Ceiron,  the  concierge  of  the  house, 
when  my  eyes  happened  to  fall  upon  the  ruffles  on 


72  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

the  sleeves.  Attached  to  the  right  sleeve  were  some 
shreds  of  lace  which  seemed  to  have  been  torn  from  a 
larger  piece.  I  am  a  lace  maker  and  I  recognized  im- 
mediately that  these  pieces  came  from  a  dress  I  had 
just  delivered  to  Mile.  Susy  d'Orsel  a  few  hours  be- 
fore." 

Fandor,  who  was  listening  with  the  closest  attention, 
now  asked:  "What  do  you  deduce  from  that,  Mad- 
emoiselle?" 

"Sire,  simply  that  the  person  who  threw  Susy  d'Or- 
sel out  of  the  window  was  wearing  that  chemise." 

"And,"  continued  the  journalist,  "as  this  belonged  to 
the  Marquis  de  Serac?" 

"But  it  is  a  woman's  chemise." 

Fandor  quickly  realized  the  importance  of  this  testi- 
mony. First,  that  Susy  d'Orsel  had  really  been  mur- 
dered and  secondly  that  the  King  Frederick-Christian 
had  had  no  hand  in  it. 

"Is  your  Majesty  very  unhappy  over  the  death  of 
Mile.  d'Orsel?" 

Fandor  glanced  sharply  at  the  young  woman  and 
then  replied  enigmatically:  "I  am,  of  course,  very 
much  shocked  at  the  tragic  end  of  this  poor  girl.  But 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

Marie  Pascal  was  growing  paler  and  paler  and  finally 
collapsed  in  his  arms.  Gently  he  placed  Marie  Pascal 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  73 

on  a  sofa.  For  a  few  moments  Fandor  sat  there 
holding  her  hands.  Then  she  sat  up  quickly. 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

Ready  to  continue  what  he  considered  an  amusing 
adventure,  he  was  about  to  take  her  in  his  arms  mur- 
muring, "I  love  you."  But  she  rose  quickly  and  fled 
horror-stricken. 

"No,  no,  it's  horrible."  She  sank  down  covering  her 
face  and  crying  hysterically. 

Fandor  rushed  over  just  in  time  to  hear  her  murmur, 
"Alas,  and  I  love  you." 

A  variety  of  sentiments  and  impressions  passed 
through  the  mind  of  Fandor.  At  first,  delighted  with 
the  avowal  he  had  heard,  he  took  her,  unresisting,  in 
his  arms.  Then  suddenly  he  became  the  victim  of  a 
violent  jealousy.  For  it  was  not  to  Fandor  she  had 
yielded  but  to  the  King  of  Hesse- Weimar,  Frederick- 
Christian.  She  looked  so  pretty  with  her  tears  and 
her  love  that  the  situation  became  intolerable  to  him. 

"Sire,"  whispered  the  gentle  voice  of  Marie  Pascal, 
"may  I  remind  you  of  a  promise?  Dare  I  ask  for  a 
souvenir  ?"  She  pointed  to  a  photograph  of  Frederick- 
Christian  II. 

"All  right,  all  right,"  growled  Fandor,  "take  it." 

She  then  handed  him  a  pen  and  asked  him  to  write 
a  dedication. 


74  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"No,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do,"  cried  Fandor.  Then 
seeing  that  the  young  girl  was  beginning  to  cry  again, 
he  added : 

"My  dear  Marie  Pascal,  I  am  very  sorry  but  it  is 
against  the  rule  for  me  to  write  a  single  word  on  my 
portrait  ...  It  is  against  the  Constitution."  The 
journalist  searched  through  his  pockets  to  find  some- 
thing he  might  give  her  as  compensation,  and  then 
clasped  her  to  his  heart  as  the  only  thing  possible  to 
do  under  the  circumstances.  At  this  moment  a  servant 
entered  and  gravely  announced: 

"Sire,  Wulfenmimenglaschk  is  here."  Had  the  sun 
or  the  moon  or  the  King  himself  been  announced  Fan- 
dor's  amazement  would  not  have  been  greater.  Marie 
Pascal  was  about  to  slip  away  embarrassed,  hardly 
capable  of  leaving  in  so  much  happiness,  when  Fandor 
recalled  her. 

"Mademoiselle!" 

"Sire!" 

"What  you  told  me  just  now  about  the  torn  lace  you 
had  better  repeat  at  police  headquarters."  Then  in  a 
lower  tone  he  continued  his  instructions.  When  he 
had  finished  she  nodded  her  head. 

Yes,  she  would  go  and  find  Juve,  the  detective  Juve, 
as  the  King  had  ordered  her,  and  she  would  tell  him 
everything. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  75 

The  servant  was  waiting  motionless  for  the  King's 
answer. 

"Wulfenmimenglaschk,"  thought  he,  "that  must  be 
one  of  those  extraordinary  German-American  cocktails 
which  Frederick-Christian  is  accustomed  to  order." 
He  turned  to  the  servant : 

"Pour  it  out."  At  the  man's  surprise  Fandor  real- 
ized that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  At  this  moment  a 
very  fat  man  with  scarlet  face  and  pointed  moustache 
appeared  in  the  doorway  and  gave  the  military  salute, 
announcing  in  a  voice  of  thunder: 

"Wulfenmimenglaschk !" 

"Good  God,"  murmered  the  journalist,  dropping 
into  an  armchair.  "This  time  I'm  dished.  He's  come 
from  Hesse- Weimar." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  PARTY  OF  THREE 

JUVE  was  busy  searching  in  a  bureau  drawer  while 
Marie  Pascal  was  going  through  piles  of  linen 
in  her  cupboard. 

"You  are  sure  you  put  it  there  ?"  asked  Juve.  "Ma- 
dame Ceiron  hasn't  by  any  chance  taken  it  away,  has 
she?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Marie  Pascal,  "I  am  quite  sure  I 
locked  it  in  my  drawer,  and  locked  the  door  of  my 
room  as  well." 

The  room  had  been  turned  completely  topsy-turvy, 
while  Juve  and  Marie  Pascal  were  searching  anxiously 
and  nervously  through  all  the  girl's  belongings. 

When  she  left  the  Royal  Palace  Hotel,  Marie  Pascal 
had  gone  directly  to  Police  Headquarters,  where  she 
had  found  Juve.  After  telling  him  the  history  of  the 
chemise  fallen  from  the  Marquis  de  Serac's  laundry, 
she  had  repeated  all  the  details  of  her  interview  with 
the  King  and  the  advice  he  had  given  her. 

"His  Majesty  Frederick-Christian  was  certainly  wise 

in  sending  you  here,"  he  replied;  "to  begin  with,  it 

76 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  77 

proves  most  conclusively  that  he  has  every  intention 
of  denying  the  crime  of  which  you  accused  him  yester- 
day, and  of  which  you  no  longer  accuse  him  to-day." 

Marie  Pascal  protested :  "I  never  accused  him !" 

"It  amounted  to  the  same  thing,  for  the  man  you  say 
threw  Susy  d'Orsel  out  of  the  window  could  only  be 
the  King,  since  he  was  alone  with  his  mistress.  .  .  . 
Now  we  get  the  further  evidence  of  the  chemise  found 
by  you  quite  by  chance  .  .  .  and  by  sending  you  to  me 
His  Majesty  explicitly  accuses  a  woman,  the  woman 
to  whom  that  chemise  belonged — of  having  killed  Susy 
d'Orsel." 

"The  first  thing  to  be  done,  Mademoiselle,  is  to  go 
to  your  room  and  have  a  look  at  this  garment.  The 
Marquis  de  Serac  himself  is  away,  and  besides,  his 
reputation  is  well  known.  Therefore,  we  cannot  accuse 
him.  If  the  chemise  was  found  among  his  laundry  it 
would  imply  that  the  murderer,  taken  by  surprise,  hid 
himself  in  the  Marquis's  apartment  and  either  changed 
his  clothes  there  or  dropped  the  chemise  into  the  Mar- 
quis's laundry-bag  on  purpose  to  create  a  false  scent." 

Without  further  words,  Juve  and  the  young  girl 
drove  to  Rue  de  Monceau  to  examine  the  chemise 
which  she  had  found  that  morning.  Marie  Pascal  un- 
locked her  door ;  a  few  moments  later  started  in  amaze- 
ment. The  chemise  had  disappeared.  Afterward  Juve 


78  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

began  to  wonder  whether  Marie  Pascal  had  spoken  the 
truth  or  whether  it  was  a  put-up  story  between  herself 
and  the  King. 

"There's  no  use  looking  any  further,"  he  cried,  "some 
one  has  stolen  it." 

"But  it's  terrible,"  replied  Marie  Pascal.  "It  is  the 
only  evidence  that  would  clear  the  King.  The  only 
proof  that  he  is  not  guilty.  How  can  anyone  be  sure 
that  I  really  found  the  chemise?" 

Juve  nodded.  "That's  what  I  have  been  asking  my- 
self, Mademoiselle." 

"Oh,  what  can  be  done?" 

The  anxiety  of  the  young  girl  interested  Juve  keenly. 

"It's  very  annoying,  Mademoiselle.  But,  after  all,  it 
only  affects  you  indirectly.  The  King  will  have  to 
explain  clearly  whether  he  was  alone  with  Susy  d'Orsel 
or  whether  a  woman  accompanied  him." 

"Yes,  but  then  they  will  suspect  him  .  .  .  Oh,  M. 
Juve,  what  do  you  think?" 

Juve  gave  a  dry  cough  and  answered: 

"Well,  Mademoiselle,  this  is  the  way  I  figure  it  out. 
Susy  d'Orsel  has  been  the  mistress  of  the  King  for 
about  two  years,  and  as  you  know  constancy  is  unusual 
with  men,  it  is  quite  possible  that  Frederick-Christian 
had  had  enough  of  his  mistress  and  had  become  inter- 
ested in  another  woman." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  79 

"That  doesn't  explain  anything." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  does.  It  explains  everything.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  that  the  King  had  fallen  in  love  with 
another  demi-mondaine,  and  that  had  brought  her  to 
the  apartment  to  notify  Susy  d'Orsel  of  his  intention  to 
break  with  her.  Might  not  a  quarrel  have  arisen  be- 
tween the  two  women  and  the  new  mistress,  exasperated 
by  some  taunt,  had  thrown  the  unfortunate  Susy  d'Or- 
sel out  of  the  window  ?  .  .  .  That  would  be  a  common- 
place enough  story." 
« 

While  speaking  Juve  was  watching  carefully  the  ex- 
pression on  Marie  Pascal's  face.  She  had  grown  very 
pale  and  at  the  end  protested  with  a  cry : 

"No,  no,  you  are  wrong.  The  King  had  not  two 
mistresses.  And  besides,  the  chemise  I  found  was 
made  of  coarse  linen,  and  would  not  certainly  be  worn 
by  that  sort  of  woman." 

"Ah,"  thought  Juve,  "I  wonder  if  Marie  Pascal  by 
any  chance  is  in  love  with  his  Majesty.  That  would 
explain  many  things.  To  begin  with,  the  reason  why 
she  was  watching  Susy's  window.  Also  why  the  King, 
touched  perhaps  by  the  caprice  of  this  girl,  had  had 
a  row  with  his  mistress,  and  finally  xvhy  Marie  Pascal, 
having  seen  him  again,  had  invented  the  story  of  the 
chemise,  which  could  not  be  found.  This  young  girl 
is  imprudent.  She  lets  it  be  seen  too  clearly  how  dis- 


80  A   ROYAL    PRISONER 

agreeable  the  hypothesis  would  be  to  her.  After  rea- 
soning thus  to  himself  Juve  turned  to  the  young  girl. 

"Well,  Mademoiselle  Marie,  if  my  supposition  is 
wrong  there  can  be  only  one  explanation,  namely,  that 
some  woman  committed  the  crime,  a  woman  who  was 
hidden  in  the  apartment  and  who  subsequently  hid  the 
chemise  in  the  Marquis  de  Serac's  laundry  bag,  and 
then  having  learned  of  your  discovery  returned  to  your 
room  to  recover  the  compromising  article."  Marie 
Pascal  remained  silent.  Juve  continued  with  the  in- 
tention of  alarming  her  out  of  her  reserve. 

"But  if  this  last  supposition  is  the  right  one  we  must 
admit  that  it  is  none  the  less  unfortunate  for  the  King. 
For  once  the  chemise  disappeared  the  King  must  be 
held  guilty  until  further  discovery." 

Marie  Pascal  replied  simply: 

"It  is  frightful.  The  more  so  because  I  had  this 
proof  in  my  hand,  and  I  know  very  well  he  is  innocent." 

Juve  picked  up  his  hat  and  began  buttoning  his 
overcoat. 

"Naturally,  Mademoiselle,  you  yourself  know  .  .  . 
and  I  may  add  that  I  am  of  your  opinion,  but  still  you 
have  no  proof  to  offer,  and  consequently  .  .  ." 

Marie  Pascal  wrung  her  hands  in  desperation. 

"What  is  to  be  done?  How  can  the  truth  come  to 
light.  .  .  .  Ah,  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  having 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  81 

at  first  accused  the  King  and  then  losing  the  proof 
of  his  innocence." 

"Oh,  don't  take  it  to  heart  too  much.  In  criminal 
affairs  the  first  results  of  the  investigator  are  really 
conclusive." 

Juve  nodded  to  the  young  girl  and  rapidly  went 
downstairs  smiling  to  himself.  One  thing  and  one 
alone  had  developed  from  his  interview.  The  King 
denied  his  guilt. 

"The  only  thing  I  know,"  he  thought,  "is  that  the 
concierge  affirms  that  Frederick-Christian  was  alone 
when  he  came  to  see  Susy  d'Orsel.  ...  If  I  can  prove 
that  definitely  I  can  also  prove  by  the  chain  of  evidence 
that  the  King  is  guilty.  But  how  to  -do  it?" 

Juve  hurried  through  the  courtyard,  passing  the 
office  of  Mme.  Ceiron,  who  was  out  at  that  moment. 
As  he  had  already  obtained  the  key  of  Susy  d'Orsel's 
apartment,  her  absence  did  not  trouble  him. 

"I'll  be  willing  to  bet,"  he  thought,  "that  I  shall  find 
nothing  interesting  in  her  rooms.  But  it  is  at  least 
my  duty  to  go  over  them  carefully.  ...  If  only  I 
could  discover  evidence  showing  that  three  persons 
were  there  together,  but  that  is  most  unlikely.  The 
officers,  the  doctors,  the  concierge  and  the  men  who 
carried  the  body  to  the  Morgue  would  have  destroyed 
all  traces." 


82  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

It  was  not  without  a  slight  shudder  that  Juve  en- 
tered the  apartment  where  the  tragedy  occurred.  With 
a  real  catch  at  his  heart  he  went  through  the  bright, 
luxuriously  decorated  rooms,  still  giving  evidence  of 
a  feminine  presence. 

Death  had  entered  there.  The  sinister  death  of 
crime,  brutal,  unforeseen.  A  hundred  times  more  tragic 
for  remaining  unexplained.  Juve,  however,  quickly 
stifled  his  feelings.  He  was  there  to  investigate  and 
nothing  else  mattered.  The  bedroom  presented  noth- 
ing worthy  of  notice,  the  boudoir  was  in  perfect  order, 
also  the  kitchen  and  the  hall. 

Juve  entered,  finally,  the  dining-room.  It  was  there, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  witnesses,  that  the  crime 
must  have  taken  place.  It  was  there  in  any  case  that 
Susy  d'Orsel  had  received  her  lover. 

Nothing  had  been  deranged.  The  table  was  still  set 
for  supper.  Two  places,  side  by  side,  bore  mute  wit- 
ness that  the  King  had  been  alone  with  his  mistress. 

Juve  at  first  carefully  examined  the  general  lay  of 
the  room.  The  disposition  of  the  chairs,  the  two 
knives  from  the  two  forks,  two  fish  plates,  all  went  to 
prove  there  had  been  only  two  persons  at  the  table. 

But  suddenly  he  gave  a  start  and  his  face  expressed 
the  keenest  interest.  He  dropped  to  his  knees  and 
carefully  examined  the  floor  under  the  table, 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  83 

"Unless  I  am  dreaming  there  are  ashes  here." 

June  bent  forward  and  noticed  at  the  right  of  the 
sofa  an  ash  receiver  placed  near  the  edge  of  the  table, 
and  below  on  the  carpet  a  small  heap  of  gray  ash. 

"To  begin  with,  we'll  admit  that  Susy  d'Orsel  flicked 
the  ash  off  her  cigarette  .  .  .  gray  ash  from  Egyptian 
tobacco,  a  woman's  cigarette." 

He  now  moved  to  the  left  of  the  sofa. 

"In  the  second  place,  here  is  another  heap  of  ashes 
in  this  plate  .  .  .  cigar  ashes  ...  in  fact  here  is  the 
band  showing  a  German  brand.  ...  So  the  King  was 
sitting  on  the  right  of  Susy  d'Orsel.  Less  careful,  he 
used  his  plate  instead  of  an  ash  receiver." 

Now  bending  down  he  noticed  on  the  carpet  a  third 
heap  of  ash. 

"A  third  person  has  been  smoking  here.  For  there 
is  no  reason  why  the  King  should  have  changed  his 
place  and  sat  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  where 
no  place  is  laid.  .  .  .  Also  this  third  person,  in  smok- 
ing a  cigarette,  and  having  no  plate  or  ash  receiver, 
dropped  his  ashes  on  the  carpet." 

After  a  moment's  thought  Juve  took  from  his  pocket 
a  small  automatic  lighting  arrangement  and  going  on 
his  hands  and  knees  under  the  table  began  a  careful 
examination  of  its  feet.  In  a  moment  he  gave  an  ex- 
clamation of  joy. 


84  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Ah,  I  have  got  it  now.    This  is  conclusive." 

And  in  fact  Juve  had  made  a  most  important  dis- 
covery. The  heavy  legs  of  the  table  were  joined  by 
crosspieces  and  Juve  had  been  able  to  determine  where 
Susy  d'Orsel  had  rested  her  feet.  He  saw  also  the 
slight  traces  of  mud  where  the  King  had  rested  his 
feet.  Most  important,  however,  was  the  fact  that  fur- 
ther traces  of  mud  had  been  left  by  a  third  pair  of 
feet. 

"If  only  I  could  identify  the  feet  that  were  placed 
here,  and  whether  they  belonged  to  a  woman." 

A  closer  examination  of  the  wood  made  him  rise 
to  his  feet  with  a  cry.  Quickly  taking  a  chair,  he 
placed  it  before  the  table  in  the  place  that  might  nat- 
urally be  occupied  by  a  third  guest,  and  then  sat  down. 
This  is  what  he  discovered.  It  was  quite  impossible 
for  a  woman  to  have  been  sitting  there.  Having 
stretched  his  legs  and  rested  his  feet  upon  the  traces 
of  mud,  he  discovered  that  one  of  the  legs  of  the 
table  came  directly  between  his  knees.  A  woman's 
skirt  would  have  made  this  position  impossible  for 
her. 

"Why,  the  King  was  telling  the  truth !  There  were 
three  persons  in  this  dining-room  a  few  moments  be- 
fore the  crime  was  committed.  And  they  were  Susy 
d'Orsel,  the  King  and  another  man." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  85 

Juve  now  threw  himself  into  an  armchair  and  re- 
mained buried  in  thought. 

"To  sum  it  up,  the  King  alone  is  in  a  position  to 
give  me  further  information.  .  .  .  And  if  he  should 
refuse  to  speak  or  should  attempt  to  lie  I  have  now 
within  my  hands  the  means  of  forcing  him  to  tell  the 
truth." 

He  sprang  up  quickly. 

"The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  go  and  see  the  King." 


CHAPTER    X 

WULFENMIMENGLASCHK 

WULFENMIMENGLASCHK ! 
Fandor  stared  in  consternation  at  the  in- 
dividual who  had  just  entered  the  apartment 
of  Frederick-Christian  II. 

He  was  enormously  fat  and  absurd  looking.  A 
large  red  nose  stood  out  between  two  little  blinking 
eyes;  a  heavy  moustache  bushed  above  his  three  well- 
defined  chins.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  soft  green  hat, 
through  the  ribbon  of  which  was  stuck  a  feather.  He 
wore  a  wide  leather  belt  containing  cartridge  cases, 
and  the  butts  of  two  revolvers  peeped  out  of  his  pock- 
ets. 

The  man  began  once  more. 

"Wulfen  .  .  ." 

Fandor  stopped  him  with  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"Won't  you  please  speak  French,  so  long  as  we  are 
in  France?" 

For  the  twenty-fifth  time  this  strange  individual  re- 
peated the  phrase  which  apparently  meant  his  name 

and  added  in  French : 

86 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  87 

"Head  of  the  Secret  Service  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Hesse- Weimar  and  Attache  of  your  Majesty." 

Fandor  congratulated  himself  that  the  table  sepa- 
rated them.  He  expected  at  any  moment  to  be  shown 
up  as  an  impostor.  But  thinking  the  best  plan  would 
be  to  try  and  bluff  it  through  he  said  graciously : 

"Sit  down,  Monsieur  Wulf." 

"But  that  isn't  possible." 

"Yes,  it  is  ...  take  that  chair." 

"I  should  never  dare  to,"  answered  the  police  of- 
ficer. 

Fandor  insisted. 

"We  desire  you." 

Wulf  bowed  to  such  formal  instructions,  murmur- 
ing: 

"I  do  so  at  the  order  of  your  Majesty." 

Fandor  sprang  up  amazed. 

"Does  he  take  me  for  the  King  too?  That  can't 
be  possible.  The  head  of  the  Secret  Service!  They 
must  be  carrying  this  joke  out  to  the  bitter  end.  I'm 
hanged  if  I  can  understand  it." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

The  man  who  since  his  entrance  had  not  taken  his 
eyes  off  Fandor,  now  appeared  to  be  considering  him 
•with  the  greatest  admiration. 

"Ah!  Heaven  be  thanked.  .  .  .  My  most  cherished 


88  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

desire  has  come  to  pass.  .  .  .  Your  Majesty  has  been 
good  enough  to  allow  me  the  honor  of  a  personal  in- 
terview." 

"He  must  be  mad,"  thought  Fandor. 

"Of  course  I  was  well  acquainted  with  your  august 
features.  .  .  .  Frederick-Christian  II  is  popular  in  his 
kingdom  .  .  .  his  portrait  hangs  on  the  walls  of  pri- 
vate houses  as  well  as  public  buildings.  But  your 
Majesty  understands  that  portraits  and  the  reality  are 
often,  dissimilar.  .  .  .  Now,  although  for  seventeen 
years  I  have  belonged  to  the  Secret  Service  of  the 
Kingdom,  I  have  never  before  had  the  honor  of  meet- 
ing his  Majesty  face  to  face." 

"So,  Monsieur  Wulf,  you  think  I  don't  look  like  my 
portrait." 

"Pardon  me,  Sire,  that  is  not  what  I  wish  to 
say.  The  portrait  represents  your  Majesty  as  being 
taller  and  heavier,  with  a  larger  moustache  and  fairer 
hair." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Fandor,  smiling,  "my  por- 
trait flatters  me." 

"Oh,  Sire,  quite  the  contrary,  I  assure  you." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

Wulf  was  evidently  waiting  for  this  question.  He 
rose  from  the  seat  and  made  a  careful  inspection  of 
the  room,  opening  each  door  to  see  that  no  one  was 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  89 

outside  listening.  Then  he  returned  to  Fandor  and 
whispered : 

"I  am  here  on  a  secret  mission,  Sire." 

"Well,  let's  hear  what  it  is." 

"I  am  charged  with  two  commissions,  one  which 
interests  your  Majesty,  the  other  the  Kingdom.  To 
begin  with,  I  have  come  to  get  your  reply  to  the  tele- 
gram in  cipher  which  his  Highness  the  Minister  of 
the  Interior  sent  your  Majesty  yesterday." 

"The  deuce,"  thought  Fandor,  "this  is  getting  an- 
noying. What  on  earth  shall  I  tell  him?" 

Then  with  an  air  of  innocence  he  asked : 

"What  telegram  are  you  speaking  of?  I  have  re- 
ceived none." 

"Your  Majesty  didn't  receive  it?" 

"Well,  you  know  the  service  is  rotten  in  France." 

"Yes,"  replied  Wulf  scornfully,  "it's  easy  to  see 
it's  a  Republic." 

Fandor  smiled.  If  he  was  compelled  to  run  down 
his  own  country  for  once,  it  wouldn't  matter. 

"What  can  you  expect  with  the  continual  strikes 
.  .  .  however,  that's  not  our  fault,  is  it,  Wulf?" 

"Quite  true,  Sire." 

The  Chief  of  the  Secret  Service  leaned  toward  Fan- 
dor  and  whispered  mysteriously. 

"I  have  it,  Sire," 


90  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"What,"  inquired  Fandor,  with  somewhat  of  anx- 
iety. 

"The  text  of  the  telegram." 

Wulf  drew  out  a  document  and  was  about  to  hand 
it  to  Fandor,  but  the  latter  stopped  him  with  a  ges- 
ture. 

"Read  it  to  me." 

"His  Highness^  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  begs  to 
inform  your  Majesty  that  since  his  absence  a  propa- 
ganda unfavorable  to  the  throne  is  being  actively 
spread  in  the  Court  and  in  the  town.  The  partisans 
of  Prince  Gudulfin  believe  the  occasion  favorable  to 
seize  the  Government." 

Fandor  pretended  anger. 

"Ah,  it's  Prince  Gudulfin  again!" 

"Alas,  Sire,  it  is  always  the  Prince." 

Fandor  repressed  a  violent  laugh. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No,  Sire.  His  Highness  the  Minister  requested  to 
know,  in  the  name  of  the  Queen,  when  your  Majesty 
has  the  intention  of  returning  to  his  Kingdom." 

Fandor  rose  and  tapping  Wulf  amicably  on  the 
shoulder  replied: 

"Tell  the  Queen  that  business  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance keeps  me  in  Paris,  but  that  before  long  I  hope 
to  return  to  the  Court." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  91 

Wulf  looked  at  him  without  answering,  and  Fandor 
added  with  great  dignity : 

"You  can  go  now." 

"But  I  have  a  formal  order  not  to  return  to  Giotz- 
bourg  without  your  Majesty,  and  when  your  Majesty 
is  ready  I  am  at  your  orders.  Even  to-night." 

Then  he  added  in  a  low  tone : 

"That  would  be  a  pity,  for  in  Paris  .  .  ." 

Fandor  glanced  quickly  at  him.  So  this  fat  police 
officer  was  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  He,  too,  wanted 
to  have  his  fling  in  Paris. 

At  this  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  the  ar- 
rival of  the  servant  carrying  a  tray  of  cocktails.  Fan- 
dor  turned  smilingly  to  Wulf. 

"Have  a  cocktail,  Wulf?" 

The  officer  almost  choked  with  delight.  In  Hesse- 
Weimar  he  would  never  have  imagined  that  his  King 
could  be  so  charming  and  simple  in  private  life.  He 
made  some  remark  to  this  effect  and  the  journalist 
answered : 

"Why  not,  Wulf?  Hesse- Weimar  and  France  are 
two  different  places  .  .  .  we  are  now  in  a  democracy, 
let's  be  democratic."  Then  clinking  his  glass  with 
Wulf's  he  cried: 

"To  the  health  of  the  Republic!" 

Fandor  now  led  the  conversation  to  the  charms  and 


92  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

seductions  of  Paris,  and  he  pictured  the  delights  of 
the  city  in  such  glowing  terms  that  Wulf's  little  eyes 
sparkled  and  his  purple  face  became  even  more  con- 
gested. He  lost  his  timidity.  He  expressed  a  wish  to 
see  the  Moulin-Rouge  and  the  Singing  Fountains. 

"What  do  you  know  about  them?"  inquired  Fandor. 

"Why,  they  speak  of  nothing  else  in  Hesse- Wei- 
mar." 

"You  shall  hear  them  then.  .  .  .  Look  here,  Wulf, 
are  you  married  ?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"Then  I'll  bet  you  deceive  your  wife." 

"Hum!  I  should  be  sorry  if  my  wife  heard  you  say 
that.  For  up  to  now  .  .  ." 

Fandor  laughed. 

"Oh,  we  Kings  know  everything.  Even  more  than 
your  Secret  Service." 

"That's  true,"  cried  Wulf,  "absolutely  true." 

"Wulf,  Paris  is  the  town  of  charming  women.  I 
am  sure  they  will  please  you  greatly.  And  as  I  have 
no  need  of  your  services  to-morrow  I  will  give  you 
your  liberty." 

The  officer  was  about  to  break  into  thanks  when 
the  door  opened  and  a  servant  announced : 

"Will  your  Majesty  receive  Monsieur  Juve  ?" 

"Show  him  in." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  93 

When  the  detective  entered  and  heard  Fandor  ad- 
dressed as  His  Majesty  he  opened  his  eyes  and  stood 
staring,  while  Fandor  himself  was  obliged  to  stuff 
his  handkerchief  into  his  mouth  to  prevent  himself 
from  roaring  with  laughter. 

Juve  began: 

"What  does  this  mean  ?  .  .  ." 

But  Fandor  quickly  stepped  forward. 

"Monsieur  Juve,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Monsieur 
Wulf.  Monsieur  Wulf  is  the  head  of  the  Secret  Serv- 
ice in  my  Kingdom  of  Hesse- Weimar." 

Then  tapping  Wulf  familiarly  on  the  shoulder  he 
added : 

"He's  one  of  the  greatest  detectives  in  the  world. 
He  was  able  to  find  the  King  of  Hesse- Weimar  right 
here  in  this  apartment.  .  .  .  Though  he  had  never  seen 
me,  he  found  me  and  recognized  me!" 

The  officer  beamed  with  delight  at  the  compliment 
Fandor  then  conducted  him  to  the  door,  whispering 
advice  as  to  the  best  way  of  passing  his  night  in  Paris. 

Scarcely  had  the  ridiculous  Wulf  disappeared  when 
Juve  seized  Fandor  by  the  shoulder. 

"Fandor!     What  does  this  mean?" 

"Why,  Juve,  simply  that  I'm  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar — of  which  fact  you  had  a  proof  just  now." 


94  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

But  Juve's  face  was  serious. 

"Now,  without  joking,  tell  me  what  you  are  doing 
here." 

When  Fandor  had  finished  his  explanation  Juve 
seized  him  by  the  hand. 

"Where  is  the  King,  Fandor?" 

"I  have  already  told  you.  I  haven't  the  least  idea. 
And,  furthermore,  I  don't  care." 

"You  are  crazy  to  talk  this  way.  What  is  happen- 
ing is  extremely  serious." 

"Why?" 

"Simply  because  a  charge  of  murder  has  been 
brought  against  Frederick-Christian." 

"Very  few  people  know  it,"  exclaimed  the  journalist. 

He  stopped  speaking  suddenly.  Outside  the  mur- 
mur of  a  crowd  grew  louder  and  louder  as  it  ap- 
proached. Juve  and  Fandor  ran  to  the  window  just 
in  time  to  receive  a  volley  of  stones  which  broke  the 
glass  in  several  places.  The  two  men  sprang  back. 

"Put  out  the  lights !"  cried  Juve. 

Below  them  the  avenue  was  black  with  people. 
After  a  moment  they  could  distinguish  what  they  were 
shouting. 

"Murderer!  Murderer!    Down  with  the  King!" 

"That  surprises  you,  Fandor,"  exclaimed  Juve,  "but 
for  the  last  forty-eight  hours  I  have  been  watching 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  95 

this  trouble  grow,  and  I  tell  you  it  is  going  to  end 
badly." 

At  the  head  of  the  mob  and  more  daring  than  the 
others  appeared  a  strange  individual.  A  long-bearded 
old  man,  dressed  in  white,  was  endeavoring  to  force 
his  way  into  the  hotel  and  a  fight  was  taking  place 
at  the  door. 

"I  know  him,"  muttered  Juve,  "I  have  seen  him  once 
or  twice  before  trying  to  raise  a  row  about  this  affair." 

"Why  it's  Ouaouaoua,  the  Primitive  Man,"  cried 
Fandor. 

A  squad  of  policemen  now  arrived  on  the  scene,  and 
without  much  difficulty  succeeded  in  dispersing  the 
mob. 

"Well,  Juve." 

"Well,  Fandor." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Juve,"  admitted  the  jour- 
nalist, "I  am  beginning  to  get  a  little  uneasy.  How- 
ever, this  manifestation  is  against  Frederick-Christian, 
not  against  me.  .  .  ." 

Juve  interrupted. 

"Idiot,  don't  you  understand  what's  happening? 
Either  one  of  two  things.  You  are  the  King,  and 
therefore  in  the  opinion  of  the  public  the  murderer 
of  Susy  d'Orsel,  or  you  are  not  the  King,  and  in  that 


96  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

case  you  are  an  impostor,  which  will  make  it  all  the 
more  likely  that  you  will  be  considered  as  the  mur- 
derer." 

"Not  much,"  cried  Fandor.  "You  seem  to  forget 
it  was  I  who  picked  up  ..." 

"Who  knows  that?"  continued  Juve.  "Why,  my 
dear  fellow,  think  for  a  moment,  if  the  King  is  guilty, 
and  even  if  he  is  not,  he  will  be  only  too  glad  to  throw 
the  responsibility  for  this  tragedy  upon  your  shoulders. 
.  .  .  That  would  let  him  out  of  it  completely.  The 
situation  could  not  be  much  worse.  Suppose  that  this 
evening,  to-morrow,  at  any  moment  some  one  finds  out 
that  you  are  not  the  King,  you  will  then  not  only  be 
suspected  of  the  murder  of  Susy  d'Orsel,  but  you  will 
be  accused  of  having  done  away  with  the  King.  .  .  . 
Where  is  the  King?  You  haven't  the  least  idea.  Then 
what  answer  could  you  make  ?" 

"The  devil,"  murmured  Fandor,  suddenly  growing 
pale.  "I  didn't  think  of  that.  You  are  right,  Juve, 
I  am  in  a  bad  fix." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  The  two  men 
looked  at  one  another,  troubled  and  anxious.  Then 
Fandor,  struck  by  a  sudden  inspiration,  seized  his  hat 
and  cane. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  inquired  Juve. 

"I  ...  Why  I'm  going  to  clear  out." 


97 


"How?  .  .  .  The  King's  apartment  is  surrounded 
by  Secret  Service  men.  .  .  .  They  take  good  care  of 
His  Majesty.  .  .  .  You  were  forgetting  that!" 

"That's  true,"  said  Fandor,  depressed.  "So  now  I 
am  actually  a  prisoner.  Look  here,  Juve,  what  has 
become  of  this  Frederick-Christian  ?  Haven't  you  any 
clue  to  follow?" 

"No." 

"He  can't  have  vanished  into  thin  air.  We  must 
find  him  if  it  is  humanly  possible." 

"That's  my  opinion,  Fandor,  but  I  am  wondering 
how." 

And  then  suddenly  to  each  of  them  the  same  thought 
occurred. 

Fantomas ! 

Was  it  not  probable  that  the  strange  crime  of  which 
Susy  d'Orsel  was  the  victim,  the  mysterious  disap- 
pearance of  the  King,  might  be  attributed  to  this  enig- 
matic and  redoubtable  bandit? 

It  would  not  have  been  the  first  time  that  the 
journalist  and  the  detective  had  put  forth  a  similar 
hypothesis. 

Fantomas  had  always  symbolized  the  very  essence 
of  crime  itself. 


CHAPTER   XI 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND   TWENTY-SEVEN   STATIONS 

ON  leaving  Fandor,  Juve  walked  up  the  Avenue 
Champs  Elysees,  refusing  the  offers  of  vari- 
ous cab  drivers.  He  felt  the  need  of  move- 
ment as  an  antidote  to  his  growing  worry  over  the 
affair.  On  arriving  at  the  Rue  Saussaies,  Juve  sent 
up  his  card  to  M.  Annion  and  requested  an  immediate 
interview.  In  a  few  moments  he  was  shown  into  M. 
Annion's  office. 

"Well,  what's  new?  What's  the  result  of  your 
investigation,  Juve?" 

"There  is  nothing  much  to  report  yet.  The  theory 
of  suicide  is  possible,  although  a  crime  may  have 
been  committed.  Whether  the  King  is  involved  or 
not  in  this  affair  is  still  uncertain.  It  will  take  me  a 
week  at  least  to  find  out." 

"In  other  words,  you  know  nothing  yet.  Well,  I 
can  tell  you  a  few  things  you  don't  know.  Pass  me 
those  documents." 

M.  Annion  looked  through  the  papers  and  then 
continued : 

"When  Vicart  saw  you  this  morning  he  forgot  to 

98 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  99 

give  you  some  of  the  instructions  I  had  charged  him 
with.  ...  I  sent  two  of  my  men  to  the  Royal  Palace 
Hotel.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  what  they  found?" 

"No,  I  haven't  the  least  idea.  There  was  nothing 
to  learn  at  the  Royal  Palace  itself." 

"On  the  contrary,  they  made  an  extraordinary  dis- 
covery." 

"What  was  it?" 

"They  discovered  that  the  King  is  not  the  King. 
The  individual  who  is  posing  as  Frederick-Christian 
II  is  an  impostor.  Rather  sensational  news,  isn't  it?" 

"So  sensational  that  I  don't  believe  it." 

"And  why  not,  if  you  please?" 

Juve  avoided  a  direct  reply.    He  asked: 

"Upon  what  do  you  place  this  supposed  impos- 
ture?" 

M.  Annion  took  up  the  papers  before  him. 

"I  have  the  evidence  here  before  me.  But  first  I 
must  tell  you  how  our  suspicions  became  aroused.  .  .  . 
This  morning,  after  your  departure,  we  received  a 
telegram  from  Hesse-Weimar  inquiring  why  Fred- 
erick-Christian did  not  reply  to  the  telegram  sent  him 
from  his  kingdom.  .  .  .  That  gave  me  an  inkling  of 
what  was  going  on.  .  .  .  'I  sent  to  the  Royal  Palace 
Hotel  and  there  my  two  detectives  learned  that  Fred- 
erick-Christian had  gained  the  reputation  of  being 


ioo  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

extremely  odd,  in  fact,  half  crazy.  Furthermore,  that 
he  was  acting  in  a  manner  totally  different  from  that 
of  former  occasions.  He  now  scarcely  moves  from 
his  room,  whereas  previously  he  spent  most  of  his 
time  out  of  doors." 

M.  Annion  handed  Juve  the  documents  and  begged 
him  to  look  them  over  himself.  After  returning  them 
Juve  realized  that  his  best  chance  would  be  to  gain 
time. 

"This  is  going  to  cause  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  If 
an  impostor  is  really  installed  in  the  Royal  Palace 
Hotel  we  shall  have  to  notify  the  Chancellor  and  ask 
for  the  authorization  to  verify  ...  In  other  words, 
a  number  of  tiresome  formalities  will  have  to  be 
complied  with." 

"Wait  a  minute,  I  have  more  surprises  for  you. 
We  now  have  the  press  on  our  trail.  All  the  evening 
papers  publish  articles  inferring  the  guilt  of  the  King. 
.  .  .  They  come  out  boldly  accusing  him  of  murder. 
Would  you  believe  that  at  seven  o'clock  this  evening 
there  was  a  shouting,  howling  mob  in  front  of  the 
Royal  Palace  ?  And  so,  my  dear  Juve,  you  had  better 
take  two  men  with  you,  and  without  delay  go  to  the 
hotel  and  arrest  the  man  who  is  passing  for  the 
King,  and  who  is,  besides,  the  murderer  of  Susy 
d'Orsel." 


R    ROYAL   PRISONER  101 

This  is  what  Juve  feared;  he  determined  to  make 
every  effort  to  prevent  the  arrest  of  Fandor. 

"All  this  is  very  well,  but  I  think  you  will  agree 
with  me  that  it  is  a  romance,  Monsieur  Annion." 

"May  I  ask  why  you  think  that?" 

"Certainly,  Monsieur  Annion. 

"You  intend  to  arrest  the  false  King  because  he 
is  accused  by  the  public  of  murder.  ...  If  he  were 
the  real  King,  would  you  be  willing  to  arrest  him 
without  further  proof?" 

"No  .  .  .  naturally  not  .  .  .  but  then  he  is  an  im- 
postor, so  that  won't  worry  me." 

"Very  good,  Monsieur  Annion,  and  now,  suppose 
you  have  guessed  wrong?  After  all,  you  are  basing 
your  conclusion  upon  a  number  of  minor  details,  upon 
the  observation  of  hotel  clerks.  All  that  is  not  suffi- 
cient. But  don't  you  think  anyone  in  Paris  knows  the 
King  by  sight?" 

"Only  two  persons  knew  him  here.  .  .  .  The  Am- 
bassador of  Hesse-Weimar,  M.  de  Naarboveck,  who 
has  just  been  changed  and  whose  successor  has  not 
as  yet  arrived.  The  other  person  is  one  of  his  friends, 
the  Marquis  de  Serac,  who  happens  to  be  away  from 
Paris  just  now." 

Juve  smiled. 

"You  forget  one  man,  Monsieur  Annion,  who  knows 


102  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

the  King  better  than  either  of  these.  I  refer  to  the 
head  of  the  Secret  Service  of  Hesse- Weimar  .  .  . 
one  of  my  colleagues.  He  is  at  present  staying  at 
the  Royal  Palace  and  sees  the  King  every  day.  Con- 
sequently it  will  be  scarcely  possible  to  deceive  him." 

"What  is  his  name?"  asked  M.  Annion. 

"It's  rather  complicated;  he  calls  himself  Wulfen- 
mimenglaschk,  which  we  may  cut  to  Wulf  for  all 
practical  purposes.  What  should  you  think  of  his 
testimony  ?" 

M.  Annion  hesitated. 

"Of  course,  if  this  individual  knows  the  King  .  .  ." 

"He  is  attached  to  the  King's  person." 

"And  you  are  sure  he  recognized  him  at  the  Royal 
Palace?" 

"I'll  bring  him  here  and  let  him  speak  for  him- 
self." 

"Well,  I'll  give  you  until  eleven  to-morrow  morn- 
ing to  produce  this  Wulf  ...  or  whatever  he  calls 
himself;  if  then  he  cannot  positively  affirm  that  the 
King  is  really  the  King,  you  must  arrest  the  impostor 
immediately.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  does  recog- 
nize him,  we  must  refer  the  matter  to  the  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs." 

"That  is  understood,"  replied  Juve,  and  he  took 
his  leave. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  103 

As  Juve  found  himself  again  in  the  Rue  de  Saus- 
saies  his  face  clouded  over. 

"Twenty-four  hours  gained  anyway,  but  I  wonder 
where  the  devil  I  can  get  hold  of  this  Wulf  ?  I  might 
catch  him  at  the  Moulin-Rouge  .  .  .  Fandor  sent  him 
there." 

Juve  drove  to  the  music  hall  and,  showing  his  card, 
questioned  the  officials. 

"I'm  looking  for  a  fat  little  man,  probably  slightly 
drunk,  foreign  accent,  wears  a  brown  coat,  tight 
trousers,  white  spats,  and  is  plastered  all  over  with 
decorations." 

"I  saw  him,"  cried  one  of  the  ushers.  "I  checked 
his  overcoat  and  noticed  the  decorations.  He  left 
some  time  ago." 

"Confound  it!"  muttered  Juve.  "You  don't  know 
why  he  left  so  early  ?  The  show  is  only  begin- 
ning." 

The  usher  smiled. 

"Well,  he  carried  a  couple  of  girls  away  with  him. 
Probably  he's  in  some  nearby  cafe." 

Juve  decided  to  spend  the  whole  night,  if  neces- 
sary, to  find  Wulf,  and  began  a  systematic  search 
through  all  the  cafes  of  Montmartre. 

At  length,  about  three  in  the  morning,  he  decided 
to  give  himself  a  rest  and  take  a  drink.  For  this 


104  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

purpose  he  entered  a  small  cafe  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  de  Douai  and  the  Rue  Victor-Masse,  and  ordered 
a  beer.  He  put  the  usual  question: 

"You  don't  happen  to  have  seen  a  fat  little  man, 
drunk  and  profusely  decorated?" 

The  proprietor  at  once  grew  excited. 

"I  should  think  I  have  seen  him.  He  came  in 
here  asking  for  some  outlandish  brand  of  cigar- 
ettes, and  ended  by  taking  the  cheapest  I  had,  then 
paid  for  them  with  foreign  money.  And  when  I 
refused  to  take  it,  he  threatened  me  with  some  King 
or  other!  Aren't  we  still  a  republic,  I  should  like  to 
know?" 

Evidently,  from  the  description,  it  could  be  no  other 
than  the  peripatetic  Wulf. 

"Was  he  alone?"  asked  Juve. 

"Oh,  he  brought  in  a  little  blonde  with  him,  but 
when  she  saw  his  fake  money,  I  guess  she  gave  him 
the  slip,  for  he  turned  to  the  right  and  she  went  up 
the  street  in  the  opposite  direction." 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  Juve;  "the  trail  is  lost 
again." 

A  waiter  stepped  forward. 

"I  think  he  went  to  the  Courcelles  Station ;  he  asked 
me  where  it  was." 

"The  Courcelles  Station!" 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  105 

Juve  stood  staring  in  amazement.  What  on  earth 
could  Wulf  want  to  go  there  for? 

"Have  you  a  telephone?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

With  great  difficulty  Juve  succeeded  in  getting  the 
connection. 

"Hullo!    Is  that  your  Majesty?" 

Fandor's  voice  replied,  laughingly: 

"Yes,  it's  His  Majesty  all  right,  but  His  Majesty 
doesn't  like  being  wakened  up  at  night.  What  can  I 
do  for  you,  my  dear  Juve?" 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  Wulf  is?" 

"How  should  I  know  ?  Probably  with  some  women, 
he  seems  crazy  about  them." 

"No,  he  hasn't  any  French  money." 

"Hold  on,  Juve;  I  advised  him  to  take  the  circular 
tube  as  the  best  method  of  seeing  Paris.  I  told  him 
to  stay  on  board  till  he  reached  the  end  of  the  line. 
Just  a  little  joke  of  mine." 

Fandor  burst  out  laughing,  and  Juve  rang  off, 
angrily. 

Once  in  the  street,  he  stood  a  moment  in  doubt  as 
to  his  next  course.  If  Wulf  was  really  taking  a  trip 
in  the  circular  tube,  he  would  be  in  process  of  going 
round  and  round  Paris.  How  was  it  possible  to  over- 
take him? 


io6  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Hailing  a  taxi,  he  explained  to  the  chauffeur : 

"Look  here,  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  the  Courcelles 
Station  .  .  .  there  we  must  find  out  in  what  direction 
the  first  train  passes,  either  toward  Porte  Maillot  or 
toward  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  .  .  ." 

The  man  stared  stupidly  and  Juve  found  it  neces- 
sary to  explain  in  a  few  words  the  quest  he  was  setting 
out  upon. 

"If  our  man  isn't  on  the  first  train  that  passes  Cour- 
celles, then  we  must  hurry  over  to  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne Station,  understand?" 

Juve  had  the  luck  to  learn  from  the  ticket  seller  at 
Courcelles  that  she  had  noticed  Wulf,  and  that  he 
had  bought  a  first-class  ticket;  this  limited  the  search 
very  considerably. 

The  first  train  pulled  in,  but  Wulf  was  not  on 
board. 

Juve  sprang  into  his  taxi  and  now  hurried  over  to 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Here  the  same  result  met  him ; 
the  next  station  was  Auteuil,  then  Vaugirard,  la 
Glaciere  and  Bel-Air. 

It  was  now  eight  o'clock,  and  his  appointment  with 
M.  Annion  was  at  eleven.  What  was  to  be  done? 

On  reaching  Menilmontant  Station,  Juve  had  about 
decided  to  abandon  the  chase. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  107 

"I'll  wait  for  one  more  train  and  then  make  some 
other  plan,"  he  muttered. 

By  great  good  luck  he  caught  sight  of  Wulf  as  it 
ran  into  the  station.  Rushing  into  the  carriage,  he 
seized  his  man  and  hauled  him  on  to  the  platform. 

"What's  the  matter?  Why  are  you  here,  Monsieur 
Juve?  I  am  perfectly  amazed  .  .  ." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Monsieur  Wulf?" 

Wulf  smiled  fatuously: 

"I  have  been  following  his  Majesty's  advice,  seeing 
Paris.  What  an  immense  city!  I  counted  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-seven  stations  since  five  o'clock  this 
morning  and  I  have  crossed  ten  rivers!  Why  have 
you  stopped  me?  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  end  of  the 
line." 

Juve  bustled  him  into  the  waiting  taxi. 

"I'll  explain  as  we  go,"  he  replied.  "It  is  a  question 
of  saving  the  King.  He  is  menaced  by  powerful  and 
terrible  enemies." 

"I  am  ready  to  die  for  him,"  exclaimed  Wulf. 
"What  must  I  do?" 

"Oh,  it's  not  necessary  to  die.  All  you  have  to  do 
is  to  certify  before  the  police  authorities  that  the  per- 
son you  know  as  Frederick-Christian  at  the  Royal 
Palace  is  actually  the  King." 

"I  don't  understand  in  the  least  what  you  mean !" 


io8  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"That  doesn't  matter;  you  have  only  to  do  as  I  say 
and  all  will  be  well." 

M.  Annion  was  overcome. 

Wulf,  after  testifying  to  the  identity  of  the  King, 
had  been  sent  to  wait  in  an  adjoining  room  while 
Juve  and  M.  Annion  had  a  confidential  chat. 

"Well,  Juve,  I  can't  get  over  it.  Without  you,  I 
should  have  made  a  terrible  break!  The  King  ar- 
rested! What  a  scandal!  But,  tell  me,  what's  to  be 
done  now?  The  public's  calling  for  the  murderer.  I 
place  myself  in  your  hands.  What  do  you  suggest?" 

Juve  thought  a  moment. 

For  the  time  being  Fandor  was  safe,  but  he  was 
still  very  far  from  being  out  of  the  woods. 

"Monsieur  Annion,"  he  replied  at  length,  "there  is 
just  one  method  of  procedure  in  this  case.  The 
assassination  of  Susy  d'Orsel,  the  question  of  this  im- 
posture, in  fact  all  these  mysterious  points  which  have 
arisen  cannot  be  cleared  up  in  Paris." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  Juve  ?" 

"I  mean  that  in  all  probability  the  threads  of  this 
intrigue  lead  to  Hesse- Weimar,  to  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom,  to  Glotzbourg.  And,  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tion, I  will  start  for  there  this  evening." 

"Go,  go,"  replied  M.  Annion;  "perhaps  you  are 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  109 

right  .  .  .  anyhow,  don't  forget  to  take  letters  of  in- 
troduction with  you." 

"Oh,  don't  worry  about  that.  I  can  get  all  I  want 
from  my  colleague." 

"Your  colleague?" 

"Yes,  from  this  excellent  Wulf." 


CHAPTER   XII 

CAMOUFLAGE 

"^""^lOME   in  and  sit  down,   Monsieur   Wulfen- 
\j   mimenglaschk." 

The  Marquis  de  Serac  led  the  way  into 
his  study. 

He  was  a  powerfully  built,  white-haired  man,  in 
the  sixties,  still  active,  with  a  slightly  tired  voice,  a 
typical  man  of  the  world  in  his  manners  and  dress. 

Very  embarrassed,  Wulf  bowed  and  bowed: 

"I  am  confused,  Monsieur.  Quite  confused  .  .  . 
I  ..." 

"Not  at  all,  Monsieur  Wulf;  now  take  off  your 
overcoat,  sit  down  and  smoke  a  cigar.  I  assure  you 
it's  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  talk  to  anyone  coming 
from  Hesse-Weimar.  I  left  the  court  when  I  was 
very  young,  and  I  should  be  a  stranger  in  Glotzbourg 
to-day;  still  I  remember  my  very  go®d  friends  there 
.  .  .  but  never  mind  that  now,  we  have  more  impor- 
tant subjects  to  discuss,  Monsieur  Wulf,  and  I'm 
sure  you  are  in  a  hurry." 

"Oh,    not  at   all;   I   am  only  too  happy  and  too 

proud  ..." 

no 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  in 

"Yes,  yes,  Paris  is  a  city  of  temptations,  and  I 
won't  take  too  much  of  your  time.  First  of  all  let 
me  explain  that  I  only  received  your  letter  yesterday, 
as  I  happened  to  be  out  of  town.  You  state  that  I 
am  in  a  position  to  render  you  a  great  service;  this  1 
shall  be  delighted  to  do  as  soon  as  you  tell  me  what 
it  is." 

Wulf  began  a  long  and  rambling  story  to  the  effect 
that  upon  leaving  Glotzbourg  for  Paris,  on  his  spe- 
cial mission  to  the  King,  he  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
writing  to  the  Marquis  de  Serac,  whom  he  knew  to 
be  an  intimate  friend  of  the  King,  to  give  him  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  His  Majesty. 

"But  now  I  don't  need  it,"  he  ended,  "for  the  King 
is  my  best  friend  ...  he  received  me  with  charming 
simplicity,  just  like  an  old  comrade." 

"Alas,  my  dear  Wulf,  His  Majesty  is  at  present 
exposed  to  the  most  terrible  danger." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"You  have  doubtless  heard  of  the  tragic  death  of 
Mile.  Susy  d'Orsel,  the  King's  mistress,  which,  by  a 
curious  coincidence,  occurred  in  this  very  house?" 

"I  know!    I  know!" 

"Well,  perhaps  you  also  know  that  among  the 
King's  enemies,  some  dare  to  accuse  him  of  having 
killed  Mile.  Susy  d'Orsel?" 


ii2  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Oh!     Such  people  ought  to  be  cut  in  pieces." 

"Alas,  Monsieur  Wulf,  we  are  not  yet  in  a  position 
to  avenge  His  Majesty.  You  don't  happen  to  know 
who  the  real  murderer  is,  do  you?" 

"No,  I  haven't  the  least  idea;  but  if  I  ever  get  hold 
of  him,  I  shall  know  what  to  do!" 

The  Marquis  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders: 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you." 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  but  I'm  afraid  we 
shan't  succeed.  There's  a  French  detective  on  the 
case,  a  man  named  Juve,  who  hasn't  been  able  to  find 
the  man  either!" 

The  Marquis  gave  a  slight  start: 

"Ah,  and  Juve  has  found  nothing,  suspects  no- 
body?" 

"No." 

"That  is  strange.  .  .  .  Well,  Monsieur  Wulf,  I 
think  we  shall  be  able  to  do  better.  You  are  ready 
for  anything?" 

"For  everything,  on  my  honor!"  replied  Wulf, 
with  fervor. 

"Very  well,  then  I  promise  you  we  shall  have  some 
news  within  a  week.  But  excuse  me  a  moment,  I 
have  some  orders  to  give;  I  won't  be  a  moment." 

The  Marquis  crossed  the  room  and  opened  the  door ; 
Wulf  could  hear  him  talking: 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  113 

"Is  that  you,  Madame  Ceiron?" 

A  woman's  voice  answered : 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marquis.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"Kindly  unpack  the  bag  in  my  room  and  when  you 
go  out  be  sure  to  lock  the  doors.  I  don't  want  a  re- 
currence of  what  happened  the  other  day  when  some 
one  entered  my  apartment  and  left  a  chemise  belong- 
ing to  the  murderer  among  my  laundry." 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis  may  rest  assured  his  orders 
will  be  obeyed." 

In  a  few  moments  the  Marquis  returned  and  M. 
Wulf  rose  to  go.  He  repeated  with  emphasis  his 
determination : 

"If  ever  I  get  the  chance  to  arrest  this  murderer, 
I  will  do  so  in  the  face  of  any  danger.  All  for  the 
King!  That  is  my  motto!" 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  Monsieur,  all  for  the  King." 

The  Marquis  de  Serac  bowed  his  visitor  out,  and 
then  suddenly  his  smiling  face  underwent  an  astound- 
ing change  of  expression. 

"I  must  clinch  my  alibi !" 

In  a  moment  he  had  torn  off  his  false  whiskers  and 
his  wig  of  white  hair  was  quickly  replaced  by  another 
— this  time  a  woman's  wig.  With  the  agility  of  a 
Fregoli  he  then  got  into  a  skirt  and  waist. 


ii4  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

m—————    i  i        ii  •••••J 

Forty  seconds  after  the  departure  of  Wulf  the  Mar- 
quis de  Serac  had  become  .  .  .  Madame  Ceiron,  the 
concierge. 

Three  or  four  pencil  marks  and  his  disguise  was 
complete.  It  would  be  impossible  for  anybody  not 
having  seen  this  transformation  to  guess  that  the 
Marquis  de  Serac  and  old  Madame  Ceiron  were  one 
and  the  same  individual. 

After  a  quick  glance  into  his  mirror  he  rushed 
across  his  drawing-room,  through  the  hall,  and  quickly 
opened  a  large  Breton  wardrobe.  Through  the  centre 
of  this  rose  a  post  which  he  seized  and  slid  down.  It 
was  the  same  contrivance  used  by  firemen  to  join  their 
engines  when  a  call  was  sent  in.  At  the  foot  of  the 
post  in  Madame  Ceiron's  apartment  were  stretched 
two  mattresses  to  deaden  the  fall.  These  were  placed 
in  a  small  storeroom,  well  hidden  from  observation. 
After  closing  the  door  behind  her,  Madame  Ceiron 
rushed  to  the  hall  in  time  to  intercept  Wulf  on  his 
way  downstairs. 

"You  are  looking  for  some  one?"  she  asked. 

"No,  Madame,  I  have  just  come  from  the  Marquis 
de  Serac's  apartment." 

After  Wulf  had  disappeared  Madame  Ceiron  re- 
turned to  her  office  and  was  about  to  enter  when  a 
voice  called : 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  115 

"Here  I  am,  Madame  Ceiron.  I  found  your  note 
under  my  door.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"Ah,  it's  you,  my  child.  You  are  very  kind  to  have 
come,  and  there  is  something  that  you  can  do  for  me. 
I  want  to  know  if  you  will  come  upstairs  to  Susy 
d'Orsel's  room  with  me." 

"What  on  earth  for?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  It's  this  way :  I  am  scared  to  go 
up  there  all  alone." 

Marie  Pascal  smiled. 

"Of  course  it  is  rather  appalling,  but  why  do  you 
go  there,  Madame  Ceiron?" 

"Well,  you  see,  the  police  have  put  their  seals  over 
everything  and  I  am  paid  one  franc  a  day  to  see  that 
nobody  enters  the  apartment  and  breaks  them.  I  have 
to  take  a  look  around  from  time  to  time,  so  won't  you 
come  with  me?" 

"Certainly,  Madame  Ceiron." 

Marie  Pascal  and  the  concierge  went  up  together 
and  began  a  careful  examination  of  the  poor  girl's 
rooms.  While  the  young  girl  was  looking  curiously 
around  Madame  Ceiron  entered  the  boudoir.  She 
crossed  to  the  chimney  and  pulled  out  a  small  casket, 
which  was  hidden  behind  a  blue  curtain.  She  opened 
it  quickly  and  inspected  the  contents. 

"Jewels!    Which  would  be  the  best  to  take?    Ah, 


n6  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

this  ring  and  this  bracelet  .  .  .  and  these  earrings. 
Now  for  the  key.  I'll  take  that  with  me." 

"Mam'zelle  Marie  Pascal!" 

"Madame  Ceiron?" 

"Come  along,  my  dear.  I  am  so  frightened,  it  up- 
sets me  to  go  through  this  poor  girl's  apartment.  Just 
run  and  see  if  the  outer  door  is  locked." 

While  Marie  Pascal  turned  her  back  and  walked 
toward  the  door,  Madame  Ceiron  suddenly  pressed 
against  a  large  box  which  fell  over  and  spread  a  fine 
coal  dust  over  the  carpet. 

"It  is  locked,  Madame  Ceiron." 

"Then  come  along.  I  hope  to  Heaven  this  business 
will  soon  be  cleared  up  or  it  will  make  me  ill." 

A  few  moments  later  Marie  Pascal  had  returned 
to  her  own  bedroom  and  the  concierge  busied  herself 
by  opening  in  her  office  a  parcel  which  she  had  taken 
from  a  cupboard.  She  was  interrupted  in  her  work 
by  the  arrival  of  a  working  woman  who  was  engaged 
to  take  Madame  Ceiron's  place  when  she  had  errands 
to  do. 

"I  am  going  to  leave  you  alone  here  to-day, 
Madame.  I  have  some  shopping  to  do.  .  .  .1  am  go- 
ing to  spend  my  New  Year's  gifts,  buy  a  green  dress 
and  a  hat  with  red  feathers.  ...  It  is  my  turn  to 
dress  up  a  little." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  117 

Shortly  afterwards  the  concierge  went  out,  taking 
with  her  the  parcel  she  had  prepared.  But  instead  of 
going  to  the  shopping  district  of  Paris,  she  hurried 
toward  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 

When  she  had  reached  a  remote  part  of  the  wood 
she  entered  a  small  hut.  A  few  moments  later  visi- 
tors to  the  Bois  noticed  the  well-known  Ouaouaoua, 
the  Primitive  Man,  walking  down  the  main  pathway. 
The  enigmatic  and  dreamy  face  of  this  man  resembled 
neither  the  Marquis  de  Serac  nor  Madame  Ceiron  and 
yet  .  .  . 

The  science  of  camouflage  pushed  to  its  extreme 
limits  produces  the  most  unexpected  transformations. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE   KINGDOM    OF    HESSE-WEIMAR 

""•"  TTAS  Monsieur  le  Baron  any  trunks  to  be  ex- 

£      <|   amined?     This  is  the  Hesse-Weimar  Cus- 
toms." 

These  words,  spoken  in  a  respectful  but  guttural 
voice,  startled  Juve  from  the  deep  sleep  into  which 
he  had  fallen  after  a  very  unpleasant  night.  The  de- 
tective opened  his  eyes  and  stretched  himself. 

The  pale  light  of  dawn  struggled  through  the  win- 
dows of  the  sleeping  car,  the  curtains  of  which  had 
been  carefully  drawn.  Outside  nothing  was  to  be 
seen,  for  besides  the  mud  which  covered  the  windows' 
a  heavy  fog  lay  over  the  country. 

The  train  came  to  a  standstill,  and  before  Juve  stood 
an  individual  dressed  in  an  elegant  blue  and  yellow 
uniform  plentifully  covered  with  gold  braid.  Juve 
looked  around  to  see  the  man  who  was  being  addressed 
by  the  title  of  Monsieur  le  Baron  and  finally  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  himself  to  wnom  the 
man  was  speaking. 

"Why  do  you  call  me  Monsieur  le  Baron?"    The 
118 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  119 

man  touched  his  hat  deferentially  and  seemed  very 
surprised  at  the  question. 

"Why,  Monsieur  .  .  .  it's  the  custom.  No  one  but 
the  nobility  travel  first  class." 

Juve  smiled  and  replied: 

"That's  all  right,  my  friend,  but  in  the  future 'call 
me  simply,  'Marquis.' ' 

The  official  again  saluted  and  seizing  Juve's  valise 
traced  on  it  the  cabalistic  chalk  mark  which  allowed 
it  to  pass  the  frontier. 

The  evening  before,  the  detective  had  taken  his 
seat  in  the  10.50  express  from  the  Gare  du.Nord  in 
Paris  for  Cologne  and  Berlin.  He  had  the  good  luck 
to  find  that  a  sleeping  car  had  been  attached  to  the 
end  of  the  train  which  would  take  him  directly  to 
Glotzbourg.  At  the  frontier  he  changed  .into  a  local, 
which  jogged  peacefully  along,  stopping  every  few 
minutes  at  small  stations.  The  country  of  Hesse- 
Weimar  spread  out  attractive  and  varied.  Numerous 
small  hills  crowned  with  woods  succeeded  the  green 
valleys  they  passed  through.  The  houses  were  Swiss 
in  architecture  and  seemed  built  for  comfort  and 
elegance.  The  little  Kingdom  seemed  to  breathe  peace, 
simplicity  and  well-being.  On  his  arrival  at  Hesse- 
Weimar,  Juve  had  not  been  without  some  apprehension. 


120  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

During  his  last  interview  with  Monsieur  Annion  he 
had  put  forward  the  opinion  that  an  investigation  in 
Hesse- Weimar  would  do  much  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
surrounding  the  affair.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
more  to  gain  time  than  for  any  other  reason  that  Juve 
had  suggested  this.  He  had  not  mentioned  to  his 
chief  that  his  real  object  in  going  to  Glotzbourg  was 
to  try  to  obtain  a  clue  as  to  the  real  or  apparent  dis- 
appearance of  the  King  Frederick-Christian  II. 

The  formal  declaration  of  the  grotesque  Wulf  had 
reassured  the  French  authorities  as  to  the  fate  of  the 
King,  but  to  Juve,  who  knew  that  Fandor  was  installed 
at  the  Royal  Palace,  the  search  for  the  real  King  was 
of  paramount  importance. 

"Glotzbourg.  .  .  .  All  out!" 

The  detective  seized  his  bag,  hurried  out  of  the 
car,  hailed  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  Hotel  Deux-Hemi- 
spheres,  which  had  been  recommended  by  his  colleague. 
After  engaging  his  room  Juve  asked  the  porter  to  tele- 
phone to  the  police  to  find  out  when  Heberlauf  could 
see  him.  While  waiting  for  the  reply  he  took  a 
bath  and  changed  his  clothes. 

After  having  washed  and  shaved,  he  was  about  to 
go  down  to  the  lobby  of  the  Hotel  when  a  knock  came 
at  the  door. 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  121 

"Come  in!"  he  cried. 

A  very  tall  and  thin  individual  with  a  parchment- 
like  face  entered  and  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"To  whom  have  I  the  honor  .  .  .  ?"  Juve  inquired. 

"I  am  Monsieur  Heberlauf,  head  of  the  police  at 
Hesse-; Weimar.  .  .  .  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  speaking 
to  Monsieur  Juve?" 

Juve,  surprised  at  the  visit,  excused  the  disorder 
of  the  room  and  tried  to  make  his  guest  comfort- 
able. 

"Monsieur  Wulf  advised  me  of  your  intended  visit 
to  our  Capital." 

In  a  very  few  moments  Juve  was  able  to  size  up 
his  man,  who  seemed  only  too  anxious  to  impart  in- 
formation about  himself  and  his  affairs.  While  quite 
as  simple-minded  as  Wulf,  he  appeared  far  more  sin- 
ister. Juve  also  divined  without  much  difficulty  that 
his  wife,  .Madame  Heloise  Heberlauf,  was  the  best 
informed  woman  in  the  kingdom  regarding  gossip 
and  scandal. 

"In  fact,"  declared  .the  chief  of  police,  "I  can  be  of 
very  little  assistance  to  you,  Monsieur.  But  my  wife 
can  give  you  all  the  information  you  need." 

Juve  made  it  clear  to  Monsieur  Heberlauf  that  he 
wished  to  obtain  an  entry  to  the  Court  as  soon  as 
possible. 


122  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

Monsieur  Heberlauf  replied  that  nothing  would  be 
easier  than  a  presentation  to  the  Queen.  It  happened 
that  she  was  receiving  in  the  afternoon,  and  Madame 
Heberlauf  would  take  the  necessary  steps  for  his  in- 
troduction. He  ended  by  saying : 

"Do  come  and  lunch  with  us  without  ceremony. 
You  will  have  plenty  of  time  afterward  to  dress  for 
the  reception.  .  .  .  Have  you  a  Court  costume?" 

Juve  had  overlooked  that  item. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  he  replied.     "Is  it  indispensable  ?" 

"It  is,  but  don't  worry,  Madame  Heberlauf  will 
take  charge  of  that.  She  will  be  able  to  find  you 
the  necessary  garments."  The  luncheon  engagement 
made  for  twelve  o'clock  sharp,  the  Chief  of  Police, 
now  more  solemn  than  ever,  rose  and  took  his  leave. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Juve,  don't  you  think  that  looks 
fine?" 

Juve  was  anxiously  regarding  himself  in  the  glass, 
examining  the  effect  of  his  costume,  while  Madame 
Heberlauf,  a  fat  little  red-faced  woman,  was  circling 
around,  eyeing  him  from  every  angle  and  clapping 
her  hands  with  pleasure  at  the  success  of  her  efforts. 

The  lunch  had  been  bountiful,  and  thoroughly  Ger- 
man. Preserved  fruit  was  served  with  the  fish,  and 
gooseberry  jam  with  the  roast.  Juve  was  now  cos- 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  123 

turned  in  knee  breeches  and  a  dress  coat  which  per- 
mitted him  to  enter  the  presence  of  royalty. 

"Don't  be  late,"  Madame  Heberlauf  advised,  "for 
the  Queen  is  very  punctual,  and  there  are  a  number 
of  formalities  to  go  through  before  you  can  be  pre- 
sented to  her." 

The  Palace  of  the  King  was  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  and  was  reached  by  a  drive  through  a  Park 
which  the  inhabitants  had  named  Pois  de  Pulugne. 
It  was  built  upon  the  top  of  a  hill  and  had  a  fine  view 
over  the  surrounding  country.  The  garden  surround- 
ing the  Palace  had  been  artistically  laid  out,  a  fine  lawn 
stretching  away  from  the  main  entrance.  The  build- 
ing itself  was  a  miniature  copy  of  Versailles.  Having 
left  his  carriage  at  the  gate  Juve  followed  Madame 
Heberlauf's  instructions  and  made  his  way  to  the  left 
wing  of  the  Palace.  Upon  his  card  of  introduction 
was  written  the  title  "Comte/'  for,  as  Madame  Heber- 
lauf had  explained,  the  Queen  had  a  penchant  for 
meeting  members  of  the  nobility.  "Your  welcome 
will  be  made  much  easier  if  you  are  thought  to  be 
noble,"  Madame  Heberlauf  had  explained.  As  it  was 
imperative  that  the  reason  for  Juve's  visit  should  be 
kept  from  the  Court,  he  had  arranged  a  little  story 
with  Madame  Heberlauf. 

The  Comte  Juve  was  a  Canadian  explorer  who,  after 


124  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

a  trip  through  Africa,  was  coming  to  spend  some 
time  at  Glotzbourg  and  was  anxious  to  meet  the  reign- 
ing family. 

"God  forgive  us  the  lie,"  exclaimed  Monsieur  He- 
berlauf,  "but  as  Monsieur  Juve's  mission  is  in  the 
interest  of  the  King  Frederick-Christian,  we  are  thor- 
oughly justified  in  the  deception." 

The  Queen's  chamberlain,  Monsieur  Erick  von 
Kampfen,  after  carefully  examining  Juve's  credentials, 
led  the  detective  into  a  drawing-room  in  which  were 
already  gathered  a  number  of  persons.  An  officer, 
in  a  wonderful  uniform,  came  forward  and  introduced 
him  to  several  of  his  companions. 

"Princesse  de  Krauss,  due  de  Rutisheimer, 
colonel  ..." 

Juve  was  not  surprised  at  this.  The  excellent 
Madame  Heberlauf  had  warned  him  that  such  was  the 
usage  of  the  Court,  and  that  before  being  admitted  to 
the  presence  of  the  sovereign,  the  guests  were  intro- 
duced to  one  another.  Juve  was  on  his  guard  against 
committing  the  slightest  imprudence,  but  his  new 
friends  were  quickly  at  ease  with  him  and  very  ami- 
able in  their  attentions.  He  was  soon  surrounded  by 
a  number  of  young  women  begging  for  details  of  his 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  125 

explorations.  Among  these  people  Juve  picked  out 
the  Princesse  de  Krauss,  a  stout  woman  with  exagger- 
ated blonde  hair  and  red  spots  on  her  face,  barely  dis- 
guised under  a  thick  layer  of  powder.  She  seemed 
to  be  ready  for  a  more  personal  conversation  which 
Juve  insensibly  brought  to  bear  upon  the  royal  couple. 

"Will  His  Majesty  the  King  be  present  at  the 
Queen's  reception  to-day?" 

The  Princess  looked  at  Juve  in  amazement,  and  then 
burst  out  laughing. 

"It  is  easy  to  see  you  have  just  arrived  from  the 
middle  of  Africa,  or  you  would  know  that  His  Maj- 
esty the  King  is  in  Paris.  .  .  .  Surely  you  must  know 
that,  since  you  tell  me  that  you  came  through  Paris 
on  your  way  here." 

The  Duchess  de  Rutisheimer,  a  rather  pretty  and 
distinguished  looking  woman,  drew  the  detective  apart 
and  whispered  behind  her  fan : 

"Our  King  is  a  gay  bird,  Count,  and  we  know  very 
well  why  he  goes  to  Paris." 

The  Duchess  spoke  with  such  an  air  of  annoyance 
that  Juve  could  hardly  prevent  a  smile. 

"One  might  criticise  His  Majesty  for  going  so  far 
away  to  seek  what  was  so  close  to  hand." 

"Ah,  indeed,  you  are  right,"  the  Princess  sighed, 
"there  must  be  something  about  these  Parisian  women. 


126  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

...  I  heard  that  the  dressmakers  of  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix  are  going  to  bring  out  some  Spring  models  which 
are  so  indecent  .  .  ." 

M.  Erick  von  Kampfen,  the  chamberlain,  entered 
the  room  at  this  moment  and  announced: 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  kindly  pass  into  the  gallery. 
Her  Majesty  the  Queen  will  be  ready  to  receive  you 
in  a  moment." 

Behind  him  came  the  little  Due  Rudolphe,  who 
was  informing  some  of  his  friends  as  though  it  were 
a  fine  piece  of  scandal: 

"The  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra  hasn't  come  yet 
.  .  .  and  they  are  wondering  if  she  will  come." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

QUEEN   HEDWIGE  RECEIVES 

OBEDIENT  to  the  Grand  Chamberlain's  invi- 
tation, the  assembled  guests  passed  into  the 
great  gallery  at  the  end  of  which  an  immense 
salon  was  seen,  still  empty;  it  was  the  room  in  which 
the  Queen  held  her  drawing-room. 

It  was  sparsely  furnished;  a  large  gilded  armchair, 
which  was  really  a  throne,  stood  at  the  farther  end 
between  two  windows;  the  floor  was  waxed  until  it 
shone,  and  the  surface  was  so  slippery  that  Juve  felt 
some  fear  of  mishaps. 

First  came  the  guard  with  a  clatter  of  sabres,  then 
two  heralds,  and  finally  Her  Majesty  Hedwige,  Queen 
of  Hesse-Weimar,  who  proceeded  to  the  throne  and 
sat  down. 

She  was  a  little  body  with  a  pinched  and  nervous 
expression  of  face.  She  trotted  along  like  an  old 
woman,  her  shoulders  hunched  up,  and  distributed 
nods  right  and  left  in  response  to  the  profound  bows 
of  her  courtiers. 

This  was  not  in  the  least  as  Juve  had  pictured  her.. 
He  had  seen  her  a  dozen  years  previously,  when  she 

was  a  young  girl  engaged  to  Frederick-Christian;  she 

127 


128  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

had  then  appeared  charming,  and  majestic  in  bearing. 
Now  she  looked  like  a  woman  of  the  middle  class, 
bourgeois  from  head  to  heels. 

Near  the  throne  stood  two  officers  in  gala  uniform, 
while  the  guard  formed  a  circle  round  the  throne. 

The  audience  began. 

The  first  Chamberlain  called  out  a  name,  and  a 
matron,  after  making  the  three  traditional  courtseys, 
came  forward  and  chatted  in  a  low  voice  with  the 
Queen.  Juve  was  observing  the  ceremony  with  inter- 
est, when  his  reflections  were  cut  short  by  a  voice 
calling : 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Juff !" 

The  detective,  slightly  intimidated,  advanced  to- 
ward the  sovereign,  while  the  grand  Chamberlain 
leaned  over  and  whispered  his  name  and  rank  to  the 
Queen. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Juff,"  said  the  Queen  in  a 
little  tinkling  voice,  "I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you. 
I  congratulate  you  upon  your  travels.  I  am  especially 
interested  in  the  natives  of  Africa.  We  had  a  negro 
village  here  a  few  years  ago  .  .  .  hadn't  we,  M.  von 
Kampfen?" 

"Quite  true,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  Chamber- 
lain, bowing  deeply.  The  Queen  turned  again  to 
Juve: 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  129 

"I  congratulate  you,  Monsieur,  and  I  beg  you  to 
persevere  in  the  work  to  which  your  special  aptitude 
calls  you." 

The  interview  was  at  an  end,  and  Juve  was  left, 
wondering  whether  he  should  leave  the  room.  The 
Chamberlain  signed  to  him  to  retire  behind  the  throne, 
where  he  found  the  amiable  Mme.  Heberlauf. 

Juve,  now  standing  quite  close  to  the  Queen,  was 
enabled  to  overhear  the  next  interview;  with  an  old 
professor  this  time — Professor  Muller.  The  Queen 
said: 

"I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you.  I  congratulate  you 
upon  your  pupils.  I  am  especially  interested  in 
scholars." 

Then  turning  to  the  Chamberlain : 

"We  have  some  very  excellent  schools  here,  have 
we  not,  Monsieur  Kampfen?" 

"Quite  true,  your  Majesty." 

"I  congratulate  you.  Can  I  beg  you  to  persevere 
in  the  work  to  which  your  special  aptitude  calls  you  ?" 

It  was  all  Juve  could  do  to  keep  from  bursting  into 
laughter. 

The  same  speech  was  being  made  to  a  couple  of 
young  girls  who  were  making  their  d£but  at  the 
Court,  when  the  circle  round  the  Queen  noticed  that 
she  was  growing  uneasy  and  preoccupied.  Finally 


130  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

she  turned  to  her  first  maid  of  honor,  and  cried  in  a 
sharp  tone: 

"Really,  Madame,  it  is  extraordinary  that  the  elec- 
tric lights  should  have  been  turned  on  while  it  is  still 
daylight!  .  .  .  Kindly  see  that  they  are  extinguished." 

The  first  maid  of  honor,  very  embarrassed,  passed 
along  the  order  to  the  second  maid  of  honor,  who  in 
turn  hunted  up  the  lady  of  the  household,  who  relaid 
the  message  to  the  captain  of  the  guard,  and  while 
he  went  in  search  of  the  proper  subordinate,  the  at- 
tention of  the  Court  was  distracted  by  the  entrance 
of  an  individual  to  whom  everybody  paid  the  greatest 
deference. 

The  Chamberlain  announced : 

"His  Highness,  Prince  Gudulfin!" 

The  Prince  was  a  distinguished  looking  young  man 
of  twenty-five,  clean-shaven  and  dressed  with  extreme 
care  and  richness  of  attire. 

He  presented  a  great  contrast  to  his  cousin,  the 
Queen  of  Hesse- Weimar,  and  as  he  approached  the 
throne,  his  head  high  and  a  sarcastic  smile  on  his  lips, 
Hedwige  seemed  to  shrink  into  her  armchair,  unable 
to  meet  the  look  in  his  eyes. 

The  suppressed  hatred  of  the  reigning  dynasty  for 
the  younger  branch  was  of  ancient  date  and  a  matter 
of  common  knowledge.  The  recent  and  prolonged 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  131 

absence  of  Frederick-Christian  had  given  Prince  Gu- 
dulfin  the  opportunity  by  which  he  had  profited  to  ad- 
vance his  claims  and  conspire  for  the  overthrow  of 
the  Government,  with  himself  as  the  King  of  Hesse- 
Weimar. 

Therefore  his  presence  was  regarded  as  a  great  piece 
of  audacity,  and  every  eye  was  watching  how  the 
Prince  would  be  received.  The  question  in  every 
mind  was  whether  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra,  a 
woman  of  majestic  presence  and  great  beauty,  would 
also  appear.  Prince  Gudulfin  had  been  paying  her 
conspicuous  attentions,  and  it  was  rumored  that  the 
Duchess  dreamed  of  a  nobler  crown  than  the  one  her 
rank  gave  her  title  to  bear. 

The  appearance  of  the  two  at  the  Queen's  recep- 
tion !  What  a  scandal !  But  with  the  presence  of  the 
Prince  came  definite  word  that  the  Duchess  had  ex- 
cused herself  on  the  ground  of  a  severe  headache,  a 
pretext  which  deceived  nobody. 

Prince  Gudulfin,  after  observing  the  correct  for- 
malities, stood  before  the  Queen  waiting  for  the  in- 
vitation to  sit  by  her  side. 

Hedwige,  still  preoccupied  by  the  electric  lights, 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  him,  and  the  situation  was 
fast  becoming  embarrassing  for  the  Prince,  who  could 
neither  go  nor  stay.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before 


132  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

'  *""  •' 

he  saw  what  was  troubling  the  Queen,  and  stepping 
aside  he  turned  off  the  lights. 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  unnecessary  economy,  is 
there,  cousin  ?"  he  murmured  with  a  smile. 

Hedwige  blushed  and  gave  him  a  furious  look.  She 
then  proffered  the  tardy  invitation  to  sit  by  her  side. 
As  the  audience  came  to  a  close,  the  Queen  in  a  loud 
voice  announced : 

"I  wish  to  inform  you  that  I  have  received  news 
of  the  King.  His  Majesty  is  well  and  is  in  Paris. 
He  will  return  very  soon." 

The  Queen's  guard  now  led  the  way  back  to  the 
private  apartments,  followed  by  the  maids  of  honor, 
and  then  the  Queen  herself  hurried  off  as  though  glad 
to  be  finished  with  the  whole  affair. 

Juve,  an  attentive  listener  to  the  numberless  in- 
trigues on  foot  on  every  side,  divined  the  comedies 
and  tragedies  which  underlay  this  little  Court,  more 
gossipy  and  vulgar  than  a  servant's  parlor.  Especially 
he  noted  the  frequent  and  bitter  allusions  to  the  per- 
petual trips  of  the  King  to  Paris.  These  cost  the 
royal  treasury  a  pretty  penny,  and  for  the  twentieth 
time  Juve  heard  references  to  a  certain  red  diamond 
belonging  to  Frederick-Christian.  He  had  known  for 
a  long  time  that  such  a  diamond  was  numbered  among 
the  crown  jewels,  and  that  it  was  supposed  to  rep- 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  133 

resent  a  value  of  several  millions,  but  he  had  imagined 
it  was  kept  in  a  place  of  safety.  Now  he  learned  that 
the  King  was  suspected  of  having  pawned  it  to  raise 
money.  With  his  most  innocent  air,  he  questioned 
one  of  the  officers. 

"I  should  think  it  a  very  simple  matter  to  find  out 
whether  the  King  took  the  diamond  with  him.  It 
must  surely  be  in  the  keeping  of  loyal  and  tried 
officials." 

The  officer  smiled: 

"My  dear  Count,  it  is  easily  seen  that  you  come 
from  the  depths  of  Africa.  Otherwise  you  would 
know  that  the  diamond  is  hidden  in  the  private  apart- 
ments of  the  King — nobody  knows  where,  not  even 
the  Queen.  You  may  easily  divine  the  uneasiness  of 
the  people  and  the  advantage  the  affair  gives  to  Prince 
Gudulfin." 

Juve  now  felt  that  the  King  was  still  in  Paris.  The 
problem  thus  far  had  become  clearer.  But  under  what 
conditions  was  he  living?  It  was  quite  possible  that 
he  had  been  kidnapped  by  some  person  who  knew  of 
the  diamond's  existence. 

While  pondering  these  matters,  Juve  had  uncon- 
sciously wandered  away  from  the  salon  and  now 
found  himself  in  the  ante-room  on  the  ground  floor. 
Here  he  came  face  to  face  with  Mme.  Heberlauf,  who 


134  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

was  accompanied  by  a  white-haired  old  man  whom  she 
at  once  introduced. 

"Count  de  Juff,  let  me  present  the  Dean  of  the 
Court,  the  Burgomaster  of  Rung  Cassel  ..." 

"The  deuce!"  thought  Juve,  "a  bore,  by  the  look 
of  him!" 

Escape  was  hopeless,  the  Burgomaster  seized  the  de- 
tective by  the  arm  and  announced : 

"I  am  the  author  of  a  work  in  25  volumes  on  "The 
History  of  the  Dark  Continent."  Now  I  hear  that 
you  have  just  returned  from  a  journey  of  exploration 
in  Africa  and  ..." 

The  old  historian  dragged  Juve  into  the  Palace 
gardens  and  the  latter  thought: 

"Hang  it,  I  couldn't  have  pitched  on  a  worse  intro- 
duction, I  don't  know  the  first  thing  about  Africa." 

But  the  author  of  the  25  volumes  quickly  set  him 
at  ease.  For  he  began  by  admitting  that  he  himself 
had  never  set  foot  out  of  Glotzbourg. 

Under  these  circumstances  Juve  recovered  his  nerve 
and  glibly  discussed  the  peculiarities  of  the  African 
fauna. 

An  hour  later  the  two  men  were  still  talking,  but 
this  time  it  was  Juve  who  was  anxious  to  keep  the 
conversation  going.  The  good  Burgomaster  had 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  135 

drifted  into  gossip  about  the  affairs  of  the  Kingdom; 
suddenly  he  turned  to  the  detective  with  a  ques- 
tion: 

"Do  you  believe  in  this  story  about  a  visit  to 
Paris?" 

Juve  hesitated  and  then  made  an  ambiguous  re- 
ply. 

The  Burgomaster  continued : 

"Personally,  I  don't.  You  see,  my  windows  look 
toward  the  large  octagonal  wing  in  which  are  the 
apartments  of  the  King.  Now,  for  the  past  week  I 
have  noticed  strange  lights  moving  about  in  these 
supposedly  empty  rooms,  and  I  have  a  notion  that 
our  dear  King  Frederick-Christian  is  very  far  frorrj 
being  in  Paris.  In  fact,  I  think  he  is  held  a  prisoner 
in  his  own  Palace! 

"Ah,  Monsieur,  you  cannot  imagine  the  intrigues 
which  are  being  hatched  against  that  noble  heart ;  the 
black  wickedness  of  the  soul  of  Prince  Gudulfin,  hid- 
den under  the  exterior  of  his  seductive  person !" 

Juve  was  impressed.  He  was  inclined  to  give  some 
credence  to  the  suppositions  of  the  Burgomaster. 
For,  after  all,  his  search  in  Paris  for  the  King  had 
been  without  result  and  he  had  had  the  presentiment 
that  his  trip  to  Hesse-Weimar  would  throw  some  light 
upon  the  strange  disappearance  of  the  monarch. 


136  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

So,  while  the  old  man  was  talking,  Juve  carefully 
noted  in  his  mind  the  minutest  architectural  details 
of  the  octagonal  tower  which  stood  out  clearly  against 
the  sky. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   PRISON 

OOD  Lord!  how  my  head  aches!  It  feels 
as  though  it  were  made  of  lead  I  ...  I  have 
a  fire  in  my  veins  and  such  a  thirst!  Here 
and  now  I  make  a  firm  resolution  never  to  give  way 
again  to  such  dissipation.  Never  again  will  I  drink 
champagne  in  such  quantities.  But,  where  the  deuce 
am  I  ?  .  .  .  It's  still  pitch  dark !  .  .  .  Ah,  I  remember 
.  .  .  it's  outrageous!  Help!  Help!" 

King  Frederick-Christian  had  wakened.  At  first  he 
experienced  the  usual  unpleasant  sensations  which  fol- 
low a  night  of  heavy  drinking  and  then,  as  his  memory 
returned,  he  was  afraid,  horribly  afraid. 

He  recalled  his  arrival  at  Susy  d'Orsel's  apartment 
in  company  with  the  young  companion  he  had  picked 
up  at  Raxim's  and  the  subsequent  supper,  and  then  he 
broke  into  a  cold  sweat  as  his  mind  flashed  to  the 
picture  of  Fandor's  return  with  the  inanimate  body  of 
his  mistress  in  his  arms — dead.  Yes,  she  was  un- 
doubtedly dead! 

And  afterwards,  what  had  happened? 

His  companion  had  declared  himself  to  be  the  jour- 
137 


138  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

nalist,  Jerome  Fandor,  and  had  called  him  by  name — 
Frederick-Christian.  Furthermore,  he  had  cried: 

"It  was  you  whc  killed  Susy  d'Orsel.  It  was  you 
who  threw  her  out  of  the  window !" 

What  had  happened  after  that?  His  mind  was  a 
complete  blank. 

Had  these  events  occurred  recently,  or  a  long  time 
ago?  His  headache  and  thirst  were  proof  that  they 
could  not  have  been  far  distant. 

"Where  am  I?  Evidently  not  at  the  Royal  Pal- 
ace!" 

When  he  first  wakened  he  was  lying  flat  on  his  back ; 
now  he  sat  up  and  groped  about  with  his  hands.  The 
ground  beneath  him  was  cold  and  hard  ...  a  floor 
of  earth.  So  they  had  put  him  in  a  vault?  in  a  cel- 
lar? 

The  air  he  breathed  was  heavy  and  warm,  and  the 
walls  of  his  cell  felt  damp  to  the  touch.  Could  he 
be  in  prison?  That  was  hardly  possible,  in  such  a 
short  time.  Besides,  he  was  innocent!  As  he  sat 
listening,  he  detected  a  faint  and  faraway  rumbling 
sound.  It  seemed  to  come  from  above  his  head. 

As  his  senses  became  more  fully  aroused,  an  in- 
definable terror  struck  to  his  heart.  At  all  costs  he 
must  take  some  action.  He  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet 
but  before  he  reached  his  full  height  his  head  struck 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  139 

the  roof.  The  blow  was  so  violent  that  he  fell  back 
again  in  a  fainting  condition. 

It  was  not  until  many  hours  afterward  that  he 
regained  his  senses  sufficiently  to  make  another  at- 
tempt. This  time  he  proceeded  with  more  caution. 

"I  am  the  victim  of  some  gang,"  he  thought  "This 
Jerome  Fandor  is  probably  the  leader  of  a  band  of  cut- 
throats who,  after  killing  Susy  d'Orsel,  took  advan- 
tage of  my  intoxication  to  make  me  unconscious  with 
some  narcotic,  and  then  dragged  me  to  the  place  I 
am  now  in." 

The  King  now  began  to  explore  the  place  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  his  ears  keenly  alive  to  the  slightest 
sound.  He  crawled  around  trying  to  discover  the 
extent  and  nature  of  his  prison. 

The  floor  appeared  to  be  of  hard  earth  with  occa- 
sional stretches  of  cement.  The  walls  were  smooth, 
but  whether  of  stone  or  metal  he  could  not  determine. 
The  height  of  the  ceiling  at  the  point  where  he  lay  was 
not  over  three  feet,  but  gradually  rose,  vault-like,  until 
he  was  able  to  stand  fully  upright.  Was  he  buried 
alive  in  some  kind  of  tomb?  The  idea  terrified  him 
and  he  began  to  shout  for  help.  After  many  fruitless 
efforts  and  completely  exhausted,  he  dropped  to  the 
ground  overcome  with  the  horror  of  his  situation. 

The  distant  rumbling  sound  now  became  louder 


140  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

from  time  to  time,  and  at  moments  shook  the  walls  of 
his  prison,  then  died  away  to  a  faint  murmur. 

Frederick-Christian  now  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts 
upon  the  situation  and  bring  some  sort  of  order  to  his 
mind. 

Susy  d'Orsel  was  dead  .  .  . 

The  King  had  felt  no  deep  love  for  the  girl.  Still, 
he  had  been  fond  of  her  in  a  way  and  her  sudden 
death  affected  him  deeply. 

He  himself  was  a  prisoner.  But  a  prisoner  of 
whom?  Evidently  of  those  who  had  killed  his  mis- 
tress. Again,  in  all  probability,  they  did  not  con- 
template killing  him  since  they  had  had  the  opportunity 
to  do  so  and  he  was  still  alive  and  unharmed.  This 
being  so,  they  would  not  let  him  die  of  hunger  and 
thirst. 

His  watch  had  stopped  and  he  had  no  way  of 
measuring  the  lapse  of  time;  but  his  attention  was 
called  to  the  fact  that  the  rumbling  noises  were  hap- 
pening at  greater  intervals. 

"The  pulse-beats  of  a  man  are  separated  by  inter- 
vals of  a  second,"  he  thought,  "and  by  counting  my 
pulse  I  can  determine  the  interval  between  the  rum- 
bling, and  thus  gain  some  idea  of  the  passing  hours." 

He  was  about  to  put  this  plan  into  practice  when 
a  sudden  cry  escaped  him: 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  141 

"Good  God!" 

In  the  blackness  of  his  cell  a  thin  shaft  of  light 
appeared. 

The  King  sprang  toward  it,  but  found  the  light  too 
feeble  for  him  to  distinguish  surrounding  objects  by. 
It  entered  the  cell  through  a  small  fissure  in  one  of  the 
walls,  and  after  a  few  minutes  was  suddenly  with- 
drawn. Frederick-Christian  stumbled  forward  in  the 
darkness  and,  after  taking  a  few  steps,  his  feet  struck 
some  object  lying  on  the  ground.  Stooping  down,  he 
groped  with  his  hands  until  they  touched  something 
that  drew  from  him  an  exclamation  of  joy  ...  he 
had  found  a  pile  of  bottles.  He  seized  one  and  opened 
it  with  a  corkscrew  which  lay  near  by. 

One  draught  and  he  realized  that  the  bottle  con- 
tained wine.  Thereupon  he  opened  several  more  but 
with  the  same  result.  To  drink  them  would  only  in- 
crease his  thirst  He  had  the  strength  to  resist  the 
temptation.  Again  he  moved  forward  and  this  time 
ran  into  a  large  box.  His  hand  touched  something 
cold.  It  was  meat  of  some  kind.  After  smelling  and 
tasting  it  he  flung  it  from  him.  It  was  a  salt  ham. 

Hours  passed  while  Frederick-Christian  suffered  the 
tortures  of  hunger  and  thirst.  Cold  and  tired  out,  he 
finally  lay  down  on  the  ground,  writhing  with  violent 
pains  in  his  stomach.  At  length  he  could  stand  it  no 


142  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

longer,  and  dragging  himself  to  the  box,  he  seized 
the  ham  and  began  to  devour  it  ravenously.  This 
brought  on  a  maddening  thirst,  which  he  tried  to 
quench  by  long  draughts  of  the  wine.  Then  he  be- 
came very  drunk  and  so,  laughing  and  crying,  he 
drank  until  he  lost  consciousness  once  more. 

"Sire!    Can  you  hear  me?" 

A  sharp  voice  broke  the  silence.  It  seemed  to  come 
from  a  distance. 

"Sire,  can  you  hear  me?  .  .  .  Answer!" 

Frederick-Christian  sprang  up. 

"Who  is  speaking?   Who  are  you?    Help!    Help!" 

The  voice,  mocking  and  authoritative,  answered : 

"Now,  then,  keep  quiet.  I  am  not  within  reach,  so 
it  is  useless  to  cry  for  help." 

"Scoundrel!"  cried  the  King. 

"There's  no  use  in  behaving  like  a  child  .  .  .  you 
won't  gain  anything  by  it." 

"Pity,  pity!  ...  I  will  make  you  rich  ...  I  will 
give  you  anything  you  ask,  only  set  me  at  liberty  .  .  . 
take  me  out  of  this  prison  or  I  shall  become  mad." 

"Have  you  done  with  your  lamentations?" 

"I'll  be  revenged!" 

"I  am  beyond  your  vengeance,  Sire,  and  you  would 
do  well  to  talk  quietly  with  me." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  143 

"You  killed  my  mistress,  Susy  d'Orsel !" 

"Yes,  I  killed  her." 

"You  are  Fandor — Jerome  Fandor!" 

"What  you  say  is  absurd." 

"And  my  Kingdom?  The  Queen,  my  wife?  What 
is  happening?" 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  discuss  politics  with  you. 
You  must  be  reasonable." 

"What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  Why  was  I  brought 
here?" 

"Ah,  now  we  can  discuss  the  matter  together.  You 
ask  me  what  I  want.  First  of  all,  let  me  reassure  you. 
I  do  not  intend  to  kill  you.  Your  death  would  not 
be  of  the  slightest  use  to  me.  Otherwise  I  shouldn't 
hesitate  an  instant." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  death." 

"I  know  that,  Sire  .  .  .  you  are  brave.  ...  I  want 
your  diamond." 

"My  diamond!" 

"Exactly.  I  am  quite  aware,  Frederick-Christian, 
that  your  personal  fortune  is  represented  by  a  diamond 
of  marvelous  purity  and  size.  I  also  know  that  it  is 
hidden  in  your  Palace.  You,  alone,  know  where.  I 
want  you  to  disclose  its  hiding  place  to  me  so  that  I 
may  go  and  get  it." 

"Never !     I'm  not  a  coward !" 


144  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"You  are  stupid,  Sire.  I  repeat,  once  in  possession 
of  the  diamond,  I  will  set  you  at  liberty." 

"Lies!" 

"Sire,  consider  a  moment.  It  would  be  practically 
impossible  for  me  to  realize  anything  like  the  value 
of  the  diamond.  To  sell  it  I  should  be  obliged  to 
break  it  into  small  pieces,  and  in  that  case  it  would 
scarcely  fetch  more  than  twenty  millions.  Now,  I 
have  a  better  suggestion  to  offer." 

"What  is  it?" 

"You  are  to  give  me  directions  how  to  find  it. 
Once  in  my  possession,  you  are  free.  You  will  then 
draw  the  sum  of  fifty  millions  from  your  bank.  As 
King  that  will  be  quite  possible.  This  money  you 
will  turn  over  to  me  in  exchange  for  your  diamond. 
And  don't  think  you  will  be  able  to  catch  me.  I  shall 
take  care  that  the  exchange  is  made  without  witnesses, 
and  in  such  a  way  that  I  run  no  risk  of  arrest.  Now, 
what  do  you  say  to  my  proposition  ?" 

"I  refuse." 

"Very  well,  then  in  two  hours  you  will  be  dead.  I 
pledge  my  word  for  it  ...  And  my  word  has  some 
value.  Perhaps  you  guess  who  I  am." 

"Who?    Who?" 

"I  am  Fantomas,  Sire." 

At  this  name  of  horror  and  crime,  Frederick-Chris- 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  145 

tian  was  seized  with  the  utmost  terror.  In  a  broken 
voice  he  replied: 

"I  accept." 

And  then  in  trembling,  disjointed  sentences,  he  gave 
up  the  secret  of  the  hiding  place  in  his  Palace  at  Glotz- 
bourg. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   THEFT   OF   THE   DIAMOND 

UEEN  HEDWIGE  had  had  a  serious  and 
legitimate  reason  for  bringing  her  reception 
an  abrupt  conclusion.  A  Court  ball  for 
the  high  functionaries  and  dignities  of  the  Kingdom 
was  to  take  place  that  evening. 

Furthermore,  the  Queen  was  very  much  exercised 
over  the  rumor  that  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra 
was  to  be  present.  This  woman,  still  young  and  very 
beautiful,  played  an  important  role  in  the  small  world 
of  the  Palace.  It  was  said  by  the  gossips  that  she 
accepted  the  attentions  of  Prince  Gudulfin,  in  the  hope 
that  some  day  she  might  share  the  throne  of  Hesse- 
Weimar  with  him.  For  many  years  she  had  been  a 
great  traveler  but  in  recent  times  she  had  spent  more 
and  more  of  her  time  in  Glotzbourg,  where  she  con- 
tinually met  the  Prince. 

While  Juve  had  experienced  no  difficulty  in  being 
present  at  the  Queen's  audience,  he  found  that  even 
Mme.  Heberlauf's  influence  was  not  sufficient  to  pro- 
cure him  an  invitation  to  the  ball.  As  a  matter  of 

146 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  147 

fact,  he  had  no  particular  wish  to  appear  in  the  qual- 
ity of  a  guest  that  evening.     He  had  other  plans. 

At  ten  o'clock  a  long  line  of  carriages  and  automo- 
biles began  to  arrive  in  the  gardens  of  the  Palace. 
Innumerable  electric  lights  shone  out  along  the  drive- 
way and  from  the  windows.  A  few  persons  had  man- 
aged to  slip  past  the  guards  and  had  stationed  them- 
selves near  the  awning  at  the  main  entrance  to  watch 
the  arrival  of  the  guests.  Beneath  their  fur  cloaks, 
the  women  wore  their  very  finest  gowns  and  their 
richest  jewelry. 

The  hall  of  the  chancellory  had  been  transformed 
into  a  cloakroom  and  there  the  crowd  was  thickest. 
In  contrast  to  the  brilliantly  illuminated  left  wing  of 
the  chateau,  the  octagonal  tower  showed  dark  and 
silent.  Hiding  behind  pillars,  keeping  close  to  the 
walls,  a  man  was  making  his  way  slowly  toward  that 
tower. 

The  man  was  Juve. 

From  behind  a  big  tree  he  stood  and  watched  the 
sky,  rubbing  his  hands  with  satisfaction. 

"This  is  a  night  after  my  own  heart,"  he  murmured, 
"overcast  and  dark.  I  should  have  been  very  em- 
barrassed had  the  moon  come  out," 

He  felt  his  pockets. 


148  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"Everything  I  need.  My  electric  lamp  and  a  good, 
strong,  silk  ladder." 

Then,  surveying  the  tower,  he  soliloquized : 

"A  fine  monument !  Solid  and  strong.  They  don't 
build  them  like  that  nowadays." 

Juve  took  a  few  steps,  bent  his  knees  and  stretched 
his  arms,  tested  the  suppleness  of  his  body. 

"Ah,  in  spite  of  my  forty-odd  years,  I'm  still  pretty 
fit  for  ...  the  work  I  have  to  do." 

By  the  aid  of  the  lightning  rod,  the  gutters  and  the 
inequalities  in  the  stones,  the  detective  was  enabled  to 
climb  without  much  difficulty  to  the  first  floor. 

There  he  paused  to  take  breath  and  to  examine  the 
shutters  of  a  window. 

"Can't  get  in  that  way,"  he  muttered,  "they're  bolted 
inside.  I'll  have  to  climb  higher." 

The  same  condition  met  him  on  the  second  floor, 
but  when  he  had  finally  reached  the  roof,  he  espied  a 
large  chimney  which  promised  a  method  of  ingress  to 
the  apartment  below.  The  descent  was  anything  but 
easy,  and  Juve,  in  spite  of  his  great  strength  and 
agility,  was  used  up  by  the  time  he  had  reached  the 
bottom.  His  clothes  were  torn  and  he  was  covered 
with  the  greasy  soot  he  had  accumulated  on  his  jour- 
ney. By  dint  of  brushing  and  scraping,  he  succeeded 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  149 

in  cleaning  off  the  worst  of  it,  and  then  looked  round 
to  take  his  bearings. 

He  had  landed  in  the  large  waiting-room  which 
adjoined  the  royal  apartments. 

The  distant  sound  of  dance  music  came  to  his  ears 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  cold  and  damp. 

"He  doesn't  often  come  here,  I'll  bet,"  thought 
Juve. 

A  door  led  him  directly  into  the  King's  bathroom, 
and  Juve  paused  to  admire  the  famous  bath  of  solid 
silver  which  the  municipality  had  presented  to  the 
King  upon  one  of  his  birthdays. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  take  a  tub,"  he  muttered. 
"Maybe  I  shall  find  His  Majesty  locked  in  his 
bedroom,  and  I'm  hardly  a  fit  sight  to  appear  before 
him." 

The  detective  now  felt  some  cause  for  anxiety. 

There  were  two  alternatives  to  consider.  Either 
the  King  was  absent,  and  in  that  case  Juve's  business 
would  be  to  discover  the  hiding  place  of  the  diamond 
and  clear  up  the  question  whether  the  King  had  taken 
it  with  him,  or,  if  he  had  been  sequestered,  to  discover 
his  prison. 

Clutching  the  butt  of  his  Browning  revolver  in  his 
pocket,  the  detective  opened  the  door  to  the  King's 
bedroom  and  entered. 


150  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

A  thick  carpet  deadened  the  sound  of  his  footsteps. 
After  listening  for  a  few  moments  he  relit  his  pocket 
lamp  and  flashed  it  round  the  room. 

In  the  centre  stood  an  immense  bed  of  oak  designed 
in  Renaissance  style,  the  posts  of  which  reached  to 
the  ceiling.  Three  steps  led  up  to  it.  Juve  noticed 
that  it  had  not  been  disturbed.  The  sheets  and  pillows 
were  all  in  order.  There  was  nothing,  however,  to 
indicate  that  the  King  had  been  absent  for  any  length 
of  time. 

Upon  one  point  he  was  certain :  The  King  was  not 
concealed  anywhere  about  the  room,  and  the  more 
he  thought  of  the  Burgomaster's  suspicion,  the  less  he 
thought  it  plausible.  But  if  the  King  had  not  been 
sequestered,  it  was  quite  possible  that  he  might  be 
purposely  hiding  after  his  unfortunate  adventure  of  the 
Rue  de  Monceau.  Therefore,  Juve  decided  to  pursue 
his  search  through  the  other  rooms. 

But  first  he  began  mechanically  to  tap  the  wood- 
work, looking  behind  the  pictures  for  the  hiding  place 
of  the  famous  diamond.  In  his  time  he  had  seen  so 
many  secret  drawers,  double-seated  chairs,  and  numer- 
ous contrivances  of  a  similar  sort,  that  it  would  be 
a  cunning  hand  that  could  baffle  his  perspicacity  and 
experience. 

He  had  just  examined  a  chair  when  suddenly  he 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  151 

stopped  in  his  work  and  waited,  listening.  The  sound 
of  footsteps  some  distance  off  struck  his  ear.  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  he  put  out  his  light  and 
darted  behind  the  curtains.  It  was  a  good  position  to 
take  up  for  he  could  see  without  being  seen. 

The  footsteps  drew  near,  the  door  opened  and  a 
light  from  an  electric  lantern  similar  to  the  one  Juve 
had  used,  was  thrown  into  the  room. 

The  individual  advanced  to  the  bed,  all  unaware 
of  Juve's  presence.  Stooping  down,  he  began  feel- 
ing the  foot  of  one  of  the  bedposts,  which  at  this 
point  formed  a  bulge.  In  an  instant  the  wood  parted 
and  disclosed  a  hollow  in  which  lay  a  jewel  case.  The 
jewel  case  contained  the  famous  red  diamond. 

Juve's  heart  began  to  thump  as  he  watched  the  man 
open  the  case  and  take  out  the  diamond.  Its  facets  re- 
flected the  light,  multiplying  the  gleams  and  bringing 
into  relief  the  features  of  the  robber. 

Then  it  was  that  the  detective  uttered  a  great  cry, 
a  cry  of  agony,  of  anger  and  of  triumph.  The  man 
was  wrapped  in  a  great  cloak,  his  face  hidden  by  a 
black  mask,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  his  identity. 
It  was  Fantomas. 

Juve's  cry  called  forth  another,  ferocious  and  men- 
acing, and  then  in  a  moment  the  room  was  plunged 
into  darkness  and  the  two  men  sprang  at  one  another. 


i $2  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

Two  revolver  shots  rang  out.  The  dancers  heard  them 
in  the  ballroom  and  stopped  dancing.  The  musicians 
heard  them  and  ceased  playing. 

At  once  a  stampede  ensued. 

Two  officers  of  the  guard  rushed  to  the  door  lead- 
ing to  the  King's  apartments,  and  flung  it  wide  open. 
One  of  them  turned  on  the  electric  light  and,  followed 
by  the  frightened  guests,  entered  the  King's  bedcham- 
ber. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed,  struggling  in  a  long  cloak, 
a  man  with  his  hands  over  his  face  lay  moaning.  By 
his  side  was  a  smoking  revolver,  and  on  the  ground 
the  empty  jewel  case. 

"Arrest  him!"  somebody  cried. 

In  a  moment  a  number  of  hands  had  seized  and 
bound  him.  It  was  noticed  that  his  eyelids  were  fear- 
fully swollen  and  the  eyes  bloodshot. 

What  had  happened ! 

The  struggle  between  Juve  and  the  monster  had 
scarcely  lasted  a  second. 

The  detective  had  fired  point  blank  at  the  black  mask 
and  as  his  finger  pressed  the  trigger  he  had  felt  the 
whistle  of  a  bullet  past  his  ear. 

Then  a  door  had  opened  slightly,  letting  in  a  thin 
shaft  of  light.  To  his  amazement,  Fantomas  no  longer 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  153 

stood  before  him,  but  an  officer  in  the  uniform  of  the 
Queen's  lancers. 

Juve  was  not  taken  in  by  this  quick  change,  and  was 
on  the  point  of  firing-  again  when  suddenly  his  eyes 
were  filled  with  a  blinding  powder,  burning  and  blister- 
ing the  pupils.  He  had  been  blinded  by  pepper.  In- 
stinctively he  put  his  hands  to  his  face,  and  in  that  mo- 
ment he  felt  himself  enveloped  in  the  long  cloak  in 
which  Fantomas  had  entangled  him.  Falling  to  the 
ground  in  agony  he  then  heard  the  cry : 

"Help!  Help!" 

By  the  sudden  and  growing  noise,  he  realized  that 
the  crowd  was  drawing  near.  When  he  had  struggled 
to  a  sitting  posture,  he  found  himself  a  prisoner. 

The  sudden  change  from  darkness  to  bright  light 
increased  the  pain  in  his  eyes,  but  with  a  superhuman 
effort  he  was  enabled  to  pick  out  the  superb  uniform 
of  the  false  lancer.  Pointing  to  him,  he  cried : 

"Arrest  him,  why  don't  you  arrest  him!" 

Brutally,  he  was  told  to  keep  quiet. 

The  noise  of  the  theft  spread  rapidly  and  the  great- 
est confusion  reigned  in  the  Palace.  Many  of  the 
women  fainted.  Finally  M.  Heberlauf  arrived.  He 
appeared  immensely  important,  and  confided  to  a  group 
his  opinion  of  the  affair,  adding  this  restriction : 

"At  any  rate,  that  is  what  my  wife  believes." 


154  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

Mme.  Heberlauf  had,  in  fact,  after  an  interview  with 
one  of  the  officers,  announced  it  as  her  opinion  that 
the  thief  so  providentially  arrested  was  no  other  than 
the  world-famous  and  unseizable  Fantomas. 

And  then  a  queer  thing  happened.  When  the  Grand 
Duchess  Alexandra  heard  this  sinister  name  spoken, 
when  she  knew  that  Fantomas  had  been  arrested,  she 
staggered  as  though  struck  to  the  heart  and  fell  faint- 
ing into  the  arms  of  her  friends. 

"Fantomas!"  she  murmured,  "Fantomas  arrested! 
Can  it  be  possible?" 

Juve  was  taken  away  tightly  bound.  He  seemed  in- 
different to  the  clamor  of  the  crowd  and  constantly 
looked  from  side  to  side  as  though  searching  for  some- 
thing or  somebody.  Suddenly,  as  he  passed  the  group 
surrounding  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra,  he  made 
a  violent  effort  and  dragged  his  captors  close  enough 
to  enable  him  to  see  the  fainting  woman's  features. 
One  look  was  enough,  and  then  without  further  resist- 
ance he  allowed  himself  to  be  marched  away.  He  had 
found  out  what  he  wanted  to  know ;  he  had  recognized 
in  the  Grand  Duchess  the  mistress  of  Fantomas,  the 
accomplice  of  his  most  dreadful  crimes.  He  had  seen 
Lady  Beltham! 


CHAPTER    XVII 

ON    THE   RIGHT   TRAIL 

"fTTlHE    Bureau    of    Public    Highways,    if   you 
j|      please?" 

"What  is  it  you  wish  to  inquire  about?" 

"I  want  some  information  as  to  the  probable  dura- 
tion of  certain  repair  works." 

"Ah,  then  go  to  the  fourth  floor,  number  54,  door 
to  the  right  at  the  end  of  the  passage." 

"Thanks." 

With  a  slight  nod,  the  visitor  entered  the  huge  build- 
ing on  the  Boulevard  Saint-Germain,  which  houses  the 
offices  of  Public  Works.  He  was  a  young  man,  dressed 
in  a  long  black  overcoat,  a  derby  hat,  which  he  wore 
well  down  over  his  eyes,  and  a  wide  bandage  that  cov- 
ered one  eye  and  part  of  the  cheek. 

After  climbing  the  four  flights  indicated,  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  evidently  taken  the  wrong  stair- 
case. There  was  nothing  to  do  then  but  to  go  back 
to  the  porter's  lodge  and  get  more  explicit  instructions. 
But  after  taking  a  few  steps,  he  hesitated. 

"Fandor,  old  chap,"  he  soliloquized,  "what's  the 

155 


156  A   ROYAL    PRISONER 

use  of  showing  yourself  and  taking  the  risk  of  being 
recognized  as  the  erstwhile  King  of  Hesse- Weimar  ?" 

For  the  individual  who  was  in  search  of  the  Bureau 
of  Public  Works  was  no  other  than  the  journalist.  An 
hour  previously  he  had  succeeded  by  clever  strategy 
in  getting  rid  of  the  excellent  Wulf,  who  was  at  all 
times  very  loath  to  let  the  King  out  of  his  sight.  Then, 
rushing  to  his  own  apartment,  he  had  changed  his 
clothes  and  partly  covered  his  face  with  the  bandage 
to  conceal  his  features. 

After  several  futile  attempts,  aided  by  innumerable 
directions  from  passing  employes,  he  at  length  reached 
the  office  of  which  he  was  in  search.  There  he  en- 
countered a  clerk  who  viewed  him  with  a  suspicious 
eye. 

"What  do  you  want,  Monsieur?" 

"I  want  some  information." 

"We  don't  give  information  here." 

"Really!  .  .  .  Why  not?" 

"Are  you  a  contractor  ?" 

"No." 

"You  wish  to  lodge  a  complaint?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  is  your  business  ?" 

"Just  to  get  some  information  as  to  the  probable 
duration  of  certain  works." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  157 

"You  are  not  a  reporter?" 

"I  am  not  a  reporter.  I  am  an  advertising 
agent." 

"Ah,  that's  different  The  office  you  are  looking 
for  is  number  43,  the  door  opposite  .  .  .  but  there's 
nobody  in  now.  However,  you  can  wait." 

Fandor  crossed  and  entered  room  43,  where,  after 
a  moment,  he  discovered  an  occupant  tucked  away  be- 
hind an  enormous  pile  of  books  and  manuscripts.  This 
clerk  was  absorbed  in  a  yellow-covered  novel  and 
greeted  Fandor  with  evident  ill-humor. 

"What  d'you  want?" 

"I  would  like  to  know,  Monsieur,  the  probable  dura- 
tion of  the  repair  work  in  operation  at  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde." 

"And  why  do  you  want  to  know  that?" 

"I  am  an  advertising  agent,  and  I  may  have  a  propo- 
sition to  offer  to  the  city." 

"And  at  what  point  is  this  work  in  operation  ?" 

"At  the  corner  of  the  wall  of  the  Orangery  and  the 
Quay." 

After  consulting  a  large  register,  the  clerk  turned 
to  Fandor,  shutting  the  book  with  a  bang. 

"Nothing  is  being  done  there.    You  are  mistaken." 

"But  I've  just  come  from  there.  There  is  a  ditch 
and  a  palisade." 


158  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"No,  no,  no  such  thing.  In  every  quarter  of  Paris 
the  police  are  obliged  to  notify  me  of  any  public  works 
in  operation,  and  an  entry  is  made  in  my  register  to 
that  effect.  Now,  I  have  no  record  of  the  repairs  you 
speak  of,  consequently  they  don't  exist." 

Fandor  left  the  office,  hailed  a  cab  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  take  him  to  the  National  Library. 

"Hang  it,"  he  muttered,  "I  saw  the  ditch  and  the 
palisade  myself!  Now,  if  they  are  not  the  work  of 
the  city,  it  will  be  interesting  to  find  out  what  is  going 
on  there.  .  .  .  Ah!  suppose  this  idiot  Wulf  was  not 
deceived !  Suppose  he  really  heard  the  Singing  Foun- 
tains the  other  evening  giving  the  last  bars  of  the  na- 
tional hymn  of  Hesse-Weimar !" 

Arrived  at  the  National  Library,  Fandor  began  a 
long  and  minute  search  through  volumes  on  architec- 
ture, on  statuary  and  a  multitude  of  guide  books  to 
Paris!  He  was  so  engrossed  in  his  work  that  when 
four  o'clock  struck  he  sprang  up  suddenly. 

"Good  heavens!  I've  scarcely  time  to  get  back  to 
my  apartment,  change  into  my  kingly  clothes  and  meet 
Wulf,  to  become  once  more  His  Majesty  Frederick- 
Christian  !" 

In  his  apartment  in  his  own  house,  the  extraordinary 
Marquis  de  Serac,  who  was  also  the  common  Mme. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  159 

Ceiron,  was  whispering  to  a  person  hidden  behind  the 
curtains. 

"You  understand,  don't  move  and  listen  with  all 
your  ears,  and  promise  me  not  to  interfere  until  I  give 
you  permission!" 

"I  promise,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  replied  the  in- 
dividual in  a  low  tone. 

"All  right,  then  I'll  have  her  in." 

The  Marquis  crossed  the  room  and  opened  a  door. 

"Come  in,  Mademoiselle,  and  forgive  me  for  keep- 
ing you  waiting.  I  had  visitors." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  replied  Marie  Pascal,  for  it  was 
the  young  seamstress,  "don't  mention  it  ...  and  let 
me  thank  you  for  your  recommendation  to  the  King. 
I  got  two  big  orders  from  it." 

"Oh,  I  was  very  glad  to  be  of  service  to  you  with 
Frederick-Christian.  ...  I  regret  only  one  thing, 
Mademoiselle,  and  that  is  the  unhappy  events  which 
have  clouded  His  Majesty's  visit  to  Paris." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Marie  Pascal,  "and  m  such 
a  tragic  way,  too !" 

"A  tragic  way,  Mademoiselle?  I  imagine  this  has 
quite  upset  you." 

"Yes." 

The  Marquis  emphasized  his  words. 

"So  I  thought,  so  I  thought  .  .  .  especially  you." 


160  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

The  young  girl  lifted  her  pure  blue  eyes  in  surprise. 

"The  King  spoke  to  me  of  you  at  great  length,"  the 
Marquis  added. 

A  quick  blush  overspread  her  face. 

"Really.  .  .  .  The  King  spoke  of  me?" 

"His  Majesty  told  me  you  were  charming.  He  no- 
ticed you  the  very  first  time  you  went  to  see  him." 

"At  the  Royal  Palace?  ...  But  he  only  got  a 
glimpse  of  me  through  the  open  door." 

The  Marquis  smiled. 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  take  long  for  a  King  ...  or  a 
young  man  to  sometimes  dream  of  the  impossible." 

"Impossible  .  .  .  yes,  you  are  right." 

Marie  Pascal  pronounced  the  last  words  in  a  serious 
voice.  She  was  making  an  evident  effort  to  keep  calm. 
The  Marquis,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  inclined  to 
joke. 

"Impossible,  why?  .  .  .  One  never  knows  .  .  .  the 
will  of  the  King  knows  no  obstacle."  Then  brusquely 
turning,  he  asked : 

"You  like  the  King,  Mademoiselle?" 

"Why  .  .  .  why    .  .  ." 

"Therefore,  I'm  wondering  if  the  death  of  this  un- 
fortunate Susy  is  not  really  a  benefit." 

"Oh,  Monsieur!" 

"Well,  you  know,  Mademoiselle  Marie,  the  happi- 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  161 

ness  of  one  person  is  made  of  the  tears  of  another. 
You  would  have  suffered.  You  would  have  been  jeal- 
ous." 

As  though  against  her  will,  Marie  Pascal  repeated 
in  a  low  voice : 

"Yes,  I  should  have  been  jealous." 

"Terribly  jealous,  for  Susy  d'Orsel  was  pretty.  Be- 
sides, a  liaison  with  her  wasn't  taken  seriously  by  the 
King  .  .  .  while  with  you  it  would  have  been  quite 
different  .  .  .  why,  I  believe  you  would  have  reached 
the  point  of  wishing  her  death." 

"No !  no !"  protested  Marie  feebly,  "the  King  would 
have  made  his  choice  .  .  .  frankly  and  loyally.  .  .  ." 

"And  suppose  he  hadn't  chosen?  Suppose  he  had 
hesitated  before  the  possible  scandal  of  a  rupture? 
Don't  you  care  enough  for  him  to  realize  that  the  very 
idea  of  sharing  him  with  another  would  have  been  in- 
tolerable? .  .  .  What  I  am  saying  sounds  brutal,  I 
know,  but  I  am  frank  with  you.  .  .  .  Believe  me,  you 
would  have  been  driven  to  hate  the  unfortunate  Susy." 

"To  hate  her?.  Yes,  .  .  .  perhaps  ...  for  I 
should  have  been  jealous!" 

And  then  suddenly  Marie  realized  what  her  words 
meant :  that  she  had  betrayed  her  cherished  secret  ... 
her  love.  In  a  moment  she  burst  into  sobs  and  col- 
lapsed on  the  sofa. 


1 62  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

The  Marquis  de  Serac  very  gently  tried  to  reassure 
her. 

"Don't  cry,  my  poor  child.  After  all,  you  are  la- 
menting imaginary  misfortunes  which  I  have  so  im- 
prudently imagined.  .  .  .  They  don't  exist,  and  never 
could  exist,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  Susy  d'Orsel  is  no 
longer  a  rival  to  be  feared.  Think  rather  of  the  fu- 
ture which  smiles  upon  you.  You  love  and  you  have 
some  reason  to  hope  that  you  are  loved  in  return, 
so  dry  your  eyes  .  .  .  fate  has  withdrawn  the  one 
obstacle  which  existed  between  you  and  the  King." 

Tremblingly,  Marie  Pascal  rose. 

"Forgive  me,  Monsieur,  for  this  stupid  scene.  I 
lost  my  self  .  .  .  control.  ...  I  confessed  a  feeling 
which  I  should  have  kept  a  secret.  .  .  .  I'm  so  con- 
fused I  no  longer  know  what  I'm  saying  ...  so  please 
let  me  go." 

The  Marquis,  with  exquisite  politeness,  opened  the 
door  for  her. 

"Promise  to  come  and  see  me  again,  Mademoiselle ; 
before  long  I  shall  probably  have  something  further 
of  interest  to  say  to  you." 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  Marie  Pascal,  the 
Marquis  drew  aside  the  poitieres. 

"Come  out,  my  dear  fellow.  .  .  .  We  shall  be  alone 
now!" 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  163 

Wulf  appeared.  A  Wulf  literally  armed  to  the  teeth, 
and  ready  for  any  emergency. 

"Put  up  your  arsenal,  we  are  in  no  danger,"  ex- 
claimed the  Marquis,  "and  tell  me  what  you  think  of 
the  visit." 

"I  think  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose,"  replied 
Wulf,  agitated.  "She  loves  the  King  and  she  hated 
Susy  d'Orsel,  therefore  she  is  the  assassin.  She  is  the 
cause  of  all  the  troubles  that  have  fallen  upon  the  head 
of  our  beloved  sovereign.  Ah !  I  want  to  arrest  her ! 
Condemn  her  to  death!  Come,  Marquis,  let  us  go  to 
her  room  and  seize  her !" 

"Not  yet  a  while,  Wulf;  sit  down  and  talk  it  over. 
To  begin  with,  we  can  arrest  nobody  without  proof 
.  .  .  presumption  is  not  sufficient" 

"I'll  force  her  to  confess !" 

"You  wouldn't  succeed,  Wulf,  and  besides,  you  have 
no  power  to  arrest  her  yourself.  That  is  work  for  the 
French  authorities.  Your  duty  is  simply  to  go  and 
warn  Juve." 

"Right  away!    At  once!" 

"Hold  on  ...  remember,  you  are  to  do  nothing 
without  my  permission.  Now,  I  repeat,  we  have  no 
proof  yet  to  offer  ...  but  listen  carefully,  for  I  have 
a  plan  .  .  .  this  is  it.  .  .  ." 

Two  hours  later,  Wulf  rejoined  Fandor  in  a  boule- 


1 64  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

vard  cafe.     The  excellent  man  had  such  an  air  of 
elation  that  the  journalist  wondered : 

"What  fool  thing  is  this  idiot  getting  ready  to  do 
now  1" 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

A    SLEEPER 

FANDOR  sat  up  in  bed  as  the  door  of  his  room 
opened  to  admit  the  cautious  head  of  Wulf. 
"Your  Majesty  is  awake?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  my  Majesty  is  awake  and  ready  to  get  up. 
Wulf,  we  are  going  out  to-day." 

"As  your  Majesty  wishes." 

"The  Queen  has  written  to  say  that  she  is  getting 
bored,  and  wants  me  home  again.  That  being  the  case 
we  had  better  make  the  most  of  our  few  remaining 
days,  you  understand?" 

"Not  very  well." 

"Why,  this  afternoon  we  must  look  up  some  pretty 
girls  and,  as  my  cousin  the  King  of  England  says, 
'Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense.'  Evil  to  him  who  evil 
thinks.  And  now,  au  revoir,  my  dear  Wulf;  by  and 
by  I'll  invite  you  to  crack  a  bottle  with  me." 

The  punctilious  Wulf  made  the  three  bows  de- 
manded by  etiquette,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left  the 
room. 

Fandor  sprang  out  of  bed  and  began  to  dress. 

"After  all,  it's  not  altogether  a  joke,"  he  muttered. 

165 


1 66  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"I  had  to  listen  to  that  idiot  Wulf  jawing  away  all 
yesterday  evening  .  .  .  and  if  I  remember  right,  he 
said  something  about  being  suspicious  of  that  little 
Marie  Pascal.  I'll  have  to  stop  him  making  more  blun- 
ders. He's  quite  capable  of  having  her  arrested.  Any- 
way, Wulf  is  to  do  nothing  till  the  return  of  Juve,  and 
that  will  give  me  time  to  take  my  precautions." 

Fandor  and  Wulf  had  just  finished  a  very  excellent 
dinner,  which  Fandor  paid  for  out  of  his  own  pocket. 
He  was  careful  not  to  take  any  of  the  royal  funds 
for  his  personal  use.  Wulf  hovered  on  the  border- 
land of  drunkenness,  but  his  ideas  still  showed  some 
coherence.  For  the  twentieth  time  he  asked  Fandor 
the  same  question : 

"But,  Sire,  why  the  deuce  are  you  wearing  a  false 
moustache  and  whiskers  to-day?" 

"So  that  I  may  not  be  recognized,  my  friend.  I 
don't  like  having  to  give  royal  tips  everywhere." 

Fandor  was  not  speaking  the  truth.  His  disguise 
was  assumed  for  other  reasons.  He  did  not  wish 
to  be  recognized  either  as  Frederick-Christian  or  as 
Fandor.  Since  noon — and  it  was  now  ten  o'clock  at 
night — the  two  men  had  been  doing  Paris  together, 
and  Wulf  had  received  the  very  gratifying  appellations 
of  "my  excellent  friend,"  "my  subtle  detective,"  and 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  167 

other  flattering  names,  so  he  was  now  dreaming  of 
decorations,  new  decorations  created  especially  for 
him. 

Fandor  interrupted  his  thoughts  by  patting  him 
familiarly  on  the  shoulder : 

"Now  that  we've  had  dinner,  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something.  We've  had  quite  a  day  of  it ;  we've  visited 
the  Bois,  where  you  spat  in  the  lake,  the  action  of  a 
reflective  mind;  we've  been  to  the  top  of  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  and  to  the  Madeleine,  so  now  there  is  only 
one  joy  remaining." 

Wulf  nodded :  "To  pay  for  the  dinner." 

"Not  exactly,"  laughed  Fandor,  "that's  more  of  a 
penance.  No,  I  was  referring  to  a  chance  meeting,  a 
charming  feminine  figure,  a  kiss,  a  caress.  Wulf,  what 
would  you  say  to  two  plump  white  arms  around  your 
neck?" 

Wulf  became  purple  in  the  face. 

"Oh,  Sire,  that  would  be  great!  But  when  I  am 
with  your  Majesty,  I  don't  look  at  women." 

"And  why  not,  Wulf?" 

"Because  the  women  only  look  at  you." 

"That's  so,  Wulf,  that's  so;  but  there  is  a  way  of 
fixing  that.  You  order  a  drink  which  I  will  pay  for, 
then  sit  here  and  count  all  the  carriages  that  pass  in 
the  street  while  I  do  an  errand,  it  will  only  take  twen- 


168  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

ty-five  minutes.  .  .  .  I'm  going  to  see  a  girl  I  know 
you  understand?" 

"Yes,  Sire.    Must  I  count  all  the  carriages?" 

"No,  only  those  drawn  by  white  horses.  Au  revoir, 
Wulf." 

Fandor  left  the  cafe  and  hailed  a  cab: 

"Rue  Bonaparte.  I'll  tell  you  where  to  stop."  He 
settled  back  in  his  seat,  an  anxious  frown  on  his 
face. 

"I'll  just  drop  a  hint  to  Juve,"  he  thought.  "One 
never  knows  what  may  happen.  ...  I  suppose  he'll 
be  back  soon  .  .  .  to-morrow  morning  or  evening 
.  .  .  and  won't  he  be  glad  to  hear  the  result  of  my 
search !" 

Fandor  tapped  on  the  glass  with  his  cane,  got  out, 
paid  the  driver  and  made  his  way  to  the  house  where 
Juve  lived.  He  still  had  his  pass-key  and  let  himself 
in,  calling: 

"Hello !  Juve,  are  you  in  ?" 

There  was  no  answer,  so  Fandor  sat  at  Juve's  desk 
and  wrote  a  long  letter,  then  tracing  a  diagram  upon 
another  sheet,  he  put  them  into  an  envelope  addressed 
to  "Monsieur  Juve — Urgent." 

When  he  rejoined  Wulf,  he  found  the  faithful  de- 
tective on  his  job. 

"I've  counted  up  to  99,  Sire,  but  I'm  not  quite  sure 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  169 

that  I'm  exact.  A  bay  horse  passed,  and  I  wasn't  sure 
whether  to  count  him  or  not." 

"That's  all  right,  we'll  take  this  up  another  time. 
I've  spoken  of  you  to  my  little  friend  and  she  is  crazy 
to  meet  you,  Wulf." 

"Oh,  Sire!  Sire!" 

"Yes  ...  so  come  along." 

"To  her  house?" 

"Oh,  no — this  lady  is  poetic,  she  wants  the  first 
meeting  to  take  place  in  appropriate  surroundings." 

While  Wulf  was  cudgeling  his  brains  to  think  up  a 
verse  or  two  to  fit  the  occasion,  Fandor  guided  him 
down  the  Rue  Castiglione,  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  at 
length  reached  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  He  cast  an 
anxious  glance  as  he  passed  at  the  mysterious  repairs, 
repairs  not  indexed  by  the  administration,  and  then 
turned  to  the  Singing  Fountains. 

"Sire,  is  this  the  place?" 

"Yes,  Wulf,  but  first  there  are  a  few  formalities 
to  be  gone  through." 

The  two  men  had  reached  the  parapet  overlooking 
the  Seine. 

"You  are  to  stand  here,  Wulf,  and  look  down  at  the 
water.  You  are  not  to  take  your  eyes  off  it." 

"Why?    What  does  your  Majesty  mean?" 

"Because  I  have  a  surprise  in  store  for  you,  and 


1 70  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

also  I  wish  to  bring  about  the  meeting  in  a  natural 
manner — to  spare  the  lady's  feelings.  Now  I  shall 
go  to  meet  her  and  take  her  to  the  Singing  Fountains. 
When  I  whistle  you  are  to  join  us.  Does  that  meet 
with  your  approval?" 

"Your  Majesty  is  most  kind." 

Fandor  moved  away  and  after  glancing  back  to 
make  sure  Wulf  was  obeying  orders,  he  quickly  drew 
his  revolver  and  approached  the  works. 

"I  must  remember  Juve's  precept,"  he  muttered, 
"never  fire  first,  and  then  only  when  you're  sure  to 
hit." 

The  journalist  now  examined  the  palisade  which 
surrounded  a  ditch  of  some  depth  dug  in  the  angle 
made  by  the  Orangery  walls. 

"Can't  see  anything  from  the  outside,"  he  thought, 
"so  111  go  in." 

With  a  running  jump  he  succeeded  in  catching  hold 
of  the  palisade  top  and  in  a  moment  was  sitting  astride 
of  it. 

Nobody  was  in  sight.  Fandor  was  a  little  sur- 
prised. He  expected  to  be  confronted  by  some  sinister 
individual. 

"All  right,"  he  growled,  "if  you  don't  mind  I'll  come 
in." 

Letting  go  of  the  top  he  slid  down  to  the  ground. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  171 

There  he  found  a  large  hole  in  which  was  placed  a 
ladder.  This  led  to  the  bottom  of  the  ditch  where  a 
series  of  pipes  protruded  from  the  soil.  Fandor  lit  his 
pocket  lamp  and  carefully  examined  the  surroundings. 

"Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  looks  as  though  some  per- 
fectly natural  repair  work  was  going  on." 

He  then  went  down  listening  at  each  pipe  mouth. 
One  of  them  gave  out  a  peculiar  sound,  steady  and 
cadenced,  in  fact,  a  snore,  a  real  snore. 

"Can  he  be  asleep,"  he  muttered. 

Climbing  quickly  out  of  the  ditch,  Fandor  reached 
the  street  again  and  ran  toward  the  Singing  Foun- 
tains. 

"Either  the  'Curiosities  of  Paris'  which  I  read  yes- 
terday in  the  library  is  a  collection  of  bad  jokes,  or  the 
body  of  the  third  statue  ..." 

He  did  not  complete  his  thought. 

After  once  more  making  sure  that  nobody  was 
about,  and  that  the  excellent  Wulf  was  still  absorbed 
in  contemplation  of  the  Seine,  he  climbed  into  the 
basin  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  bronze  naiads  and 
waded  through  mud  and  water  to  the  base  of  the 
statue. 

"Now,  then,  let's  see,  what  must  I  do  next?  Seize 
the  statue  by  the  neck,  place  the  left  hand  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  body  and  sway  it." 


172  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  journalist  ap- 
plied all  his  force  and  in  a  moment  the  statue  parted 
in  two  and  swung  toward  him.  The  hollow  interior 
appeared  like  a  black  hole.  Bending  forward,  Fan- 
dor  cried : 

"Sire,  Sire,  can  you  hear  me?" 

His  voice  came  echoing  back  to  him,  but  there  was 
no  reply  from  the  depths. 

"Ah,  I  can't  be  mistaken!"  he  cried,  desperately. 
"Wulf  heard  this  fountain  singing  the  national  an- 
them of  Hesse-Weimar,  the  statue  is  hollow,  there- 
fore the  King  should  be  hidden  in  it." 

Again  he  stood,  listening.  After  a  pause  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise  escaped  him. 

"Why,  it's  the  same  noise  I  heard  in  the  pipe  .  .  . 
it's  a  snore  .  .  .  the  unfortunate  man  is  somewhere 
asleep !" 

To  call  louder  would  have  been  dangerous,  and  be- 
sides, quick  action  was  necessary. 

"Nothing  venture,  nothing  gain,"  he  whispered,  as, 
revolver  in  hand,  he  stepped  inside  the  statue.  He 
slid  rapidly  down  for  a  distance  of  six  or  eight 
feet  and  then  landed  on  earth.  There  he  lay  for 
a  minute  or  two,  reasoning  that  if  he  should  be 
met  by  a  fusillade,  he  would  be  safer  in  that  posi- 
tion. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  173 

However,  complete  silence  reigned  about  him, 
broken  only  by  the  steady  and  distant  snoring. 

Then,  lighting  his  electric  lamp,  Fandor  began  a 
survey  of  the  premises  into  which  he  had  so  daringly 
intruded. 


CHAPTER    XIX 
FREE! 

AFTER  a  brief  inspection,  a  cry  of  surprise  rose 
to  his  lips. 

"Good  Lord!  .  .  .  there  he  is!     Frederick- 
Christian." 

It  was  indeed  the  King — a  prisoner  in  the  hollow 
foundations  of  the  Singing-  Fountains. 

"Sire,  Sire!" 

The  King  slept  on.  But  his  sleep  seemed  troubled ; 
he  breathed  in  gasps. 

"Sire!  Sire!  Wake  up!  I  have  come  to  save 
you!  Upon  my  word,  that  is  what  might  be  called  a 
royal  sleep." 

The  journalist's  words  made  no  impression  on  the 
sleeping  monarch,  so,  ignoring  all  formality,  he  laid 
hands  upon  the  King  and  gave  him  a  violent  shaking. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  try  to  recognize  me  ...  speak 
to  me  ...  I  am  Jerome  Fandor  .  .  .  I've  come  to 
save  you." 

In  leaning  over  the  sleeping  man,  Fandor  suddenly 
got  a  whiff  of  his  breath  and  then  drew  back,  amazed. 

"Why,  he's  drunk!     As  drunk  as  a  lord!     Where 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  175 

the  deuce  did  he  get  it  ?  .  .  .  Ah,  these  empty  bottles ! 
.  .  .  Wine !  .  .  .  and  ham  ...  no  wonder !  What  on 
earth  shall  I  do  with  him  now?  How  can  I  get  him 
out  of  here?  I  can't  leave  him  in  the  hands  of  the 
cutthroats  who  have  imprisoned  him.  .  .  .  But  if  I  do 
take  him  away,  how  the  devil  will  Juve  and  I  be  able 
to  catch  the  accomplices  of  Fantomas,  if  he  has 
any?" 

"Juve!" 

The  very  name  of  the  detective  gave  him  an  inspi- 
ration. 

"Yes,  that's  the  only  way  out  of  it  ...  first  of  all, 
I  must  save  the  King,  get  him  out  of  danger,  and  then 
arrange  a  trap  to  catch  my  gang."  Fandor  deliber- 
ated a  moment. 

"There's  no  doubt  I  shall  run  the  risk  of  being 
killed  in  his  place,  but  that's  a  risk  I  shall  have  to 
take." 

And  then  a  smile  spread  over  the  journalist's  fea- 
tures. 

"What  an  idiot  I  am!  After  all,  there's  no  danger 
...  it  was  a  happy  thought  of  mine  leaving  that  note 
for  Juve  .  .  .  he'll  come  to-morrow  at  the  latest  .  .  . 
that  gives  me  the  rest  of  the  night." 

Fandor's  ruse,  its  daring  and  its  almost  unheard  of 
devotion,  appeared  to  him  quite  natural.  It  was  sim- 


176  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

ply  to  set  the  King  at  liberty  and  remain  himself  in 
his  place. 

While  he  undoubtedly  ran  the  risk  of  a  bullet  in 
his  body,  yet  the  carefully  drawn  plan  he  had  left 
in  Juve's  rooms  would  enable  the  detective  to  find 
his  prison  without  difficulty. 

The  first  problem  that  presented  itself  was  to  get 
the  drunken  King  away. 

Frederick-Christian  lay,  an  inert  mass,  quite  in- 
capable of  rendering  any  assistance.  Fandor  began 
by  drawing  himself  up  to  the  opening  and  taking  a 
look  around.  The  Place  de  la  Concorde  was  deserted. 

"Well,  to  work!"  he  cried.  "There  is  nothing  for 
me  to  do  but  to  haul  him  out,  then  put  the  body  of 
the  statue  back  in  place.  .  .  .  If  in  three  days  nothing 
happens,  why  I  shall  be  free  to  leave.  The  ham  will 
keep  me  going,  and  as  for  the  wine  .  .  .  Ah !  an  idea !" 

The  journalist  seized  half  a  dozen  of  the  empty 
bottles,  climbed  out  and  filled  them  with  water;  re- 
turning, he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  thin  silk  cord  he 
had  taken  from  Juve's  room.  By  its  aid  and  with  a 
strength  of  which  his  slender  figure  gave  no  evidence, 
he  succeeded  in  hauling  the  King  up  to  the  open  air. 

"And  now  for  another  foot  bath,"  exclaimed  Fan- 
dor;  "saving  Kings  is  a  sorry  business." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  177 

Having  waded  again  through  the  icy  water  of  the 
basin,  Fandor  carried  the  unconscious  monarch  upon 
his  shoulders  and  deposited  his  burden  on  the  side- 
walk. He  was  about  to  regain  his  dungeon  when  he 
suddenly  paused: 

"The  deuce!  I  was  forgetting!  When  he  becomes 
sober  again,  he'll  have  forgotten  all  about  his  adven- 
ture .  .  .  he'll  kick  up  a  row  at  the  Royal  Palace. 
...  I  must  warn  him." 

Fandor  took  out  his  notebook,  wrote  a  few  lines 
which  he  enclosed  in  an  envelope  and  pinned  it  upon 
the  King's  coat.  Upon  the  envelope  was  written : 

"I  am  to  read  this  when  I  wake." 

His  next  proceeding  was  to  blow  a  shrill  whistle. 

"It's  your  turn  now,  my  dear  Wulf  .  .  .  you  won't 
find  the  fair  unknown  you  expect,  but  you'll  get  back 
your  Prince,  slightly  the  worse  for  wear." 

The  journalist  now  swung  the  statue  back  in  place, 
exclaiming : 

"Au  revoir,  Monsieur,  I'm  off  to  take  your  place 
.  .  .  sorry  I  can't  stay  to  see  the  meeting  with  Wulf 
...  he'll  find  his  King  somewhat  changed.  ...  I 
ought  to  have  given  you  my  moustache  and  beard." 

Fandor  passed  a  horrible  night.  He  was  obliged 
to  economize  the  use  of  his  electric  lamp,  which  was 


178  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

only  capable  of  giving  several  hours  of  light,  so  after 
a  careful  survey  of  his  lodging,  he  extinguished  it 
and  lay  down  to  get  what  rest  he  could. 

"Not  much  fun  for  the  King  here !"  he  thought,  "it's 
devilish  monotonous  .  .  .  can't  see  anything,  and  noth- 
ing to  hear  .  .  .  hold  on,  I  can  distinguish  three  sep- 
arate noises,  the  plash  of  the  water  from  the  foun- 
tains, the  rumble  of  carriages,  and  that  heavy  sound 
can  only  be  the  passage  of  trains  from  the  North- 
South  in  the  tunnel,  which  if  I  mistake  not  is  right 
under  my  prison  .  .  .  and  these  Singing  Fountains 
.  .  .  they  are  accounted  for  by  the  King  howling  when 
he  got  drunk  .  .  .  but  what  about  the  night  Susy 
d'Orsel  was  killed  ? ..  .  .  The  King  wasn't  here  then, 
and  yet  they  were  heard  singing?" 

Fandor  was  not  long  in  reaching  the  solution  of 
the  mystery. 

"What  a  fool  I  am !  .  .  .the  murder  of  Susy  d'Or- 
sel, the  imprisonment  of  the  King,  are  both  the  work 
of  Fantomas!  Fantomas  must  have  known  this  hid- 
ing place  a  long  time  ago.  ...  It  was  he  who  tried 
the  experiment  of  making  the  statues  sing  to  find  out 
whether  the  sound  could  be  heard  above.  .  .  .  And 
to  think  that  this  monster  has  been  arrested  by  Juve ! 
And  without  me,  too !  .  .  .  I  shall  have  only  the  glory 
of  showing  up  a  few  of  his  accomplices,  and  if  they 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  179 

don't  come  in  two  or  three  days,  why,  I  shall  clear 
out." 

Fandor  rose  and  went  toward  the  base  of  the  naiad. 

"It's  still  dark.  I  might  just  as  well  get  a  breath 
of  fresh  air." 

With  a  gymnastic  leap,  the  journalist  reached  the 
body  of  the  statue  and  switched  on  his  electric  light. 
He  made  a  horrible  discovery.  To  reach  the  King 
he  had  maneuvered  the  statue  from  the  outside.  He 
realized  now  that  it  was  impossible  to  open  it  from 
the  inside.  In  his  daring  folly  he  had  shut  himself 
in  and  possibly  condemned  himself  to  the  most  ter- 
rible torture. 

Now  he  began  a  struggle  to  regain  his  liberty.  He 
tore  his  fingers  and  broke  his  nails  in  vain  despairing 
efforts  ...  at  length  he  gave  up,  beaten.  He  was 
irrevocably  a  prisoner.  When  he  realized  his  situa- 
tion he  sank  to  the  ground,  a  cry  escaping  his  lips : 

"Juve!  Juve!  If  only  Juve  finds  my  letter.  If 
only  he  comes  to  save  me !" 


CHAPTER   XX 

FREDERICK-CHRISTIAN 

"    A    NOTHER  drink>  Monsieur  Louis?" 
^"\       "I  think  I've  had  about  enough." 

"No,  no  ...  this  is  my  turn  to  treat." 

"Well,  since  you  put  it  that  way,  Monsieur  Wulf,  I 
can't  refuse." 

"Besides,"  added  the  barkeeper,  "this  is  some  very 
special  vermouth,  only  served  to  old  clients." 

"Ah,"  laughed  Wulf,  "I  hope  we're  included  in 
that  category,  for  you  certainly  have  no  better  client 
than  myself." 

"Excuse  me,"  replied  the  barkeeper,  smiling,  "we 
have  one,  your  boss,  Monsieur  Wulf,  the  King  Freder- 
ick-Christian. .  .  .  And  while  he  doesn't  always  finish 
his  drinks  he  always  pays  for  them." 

"And  that's  the  important  thing,"  added  M.  Louis. 

It  was  about  ten  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  bar  of 
the  Royal  Palace,  deserted  at  this  early  hour,  were  M. 
Louis,  Major-domo  of  the  hotel,  Wulf,  and  the  bar- 
keeper, who  in  his  turn  offered  a  round  of  drinks  on 

the  house. 

i  So 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  181 

As  the  glasses  were  being  filled,  the  telephone  rang 
to  say  that  his  Majesty  wanted  to  see  Wulf. 

"That's  all  right,"  replied  Wulf  condescendingly, 
"I'll  be  along  by  and  by." 

After  several  more  vermouths,  Wulf  grew  expan- 
sive: 

"Do  you  know,  Monsieur  Louis,  that  I've  actually 
saved  the  King's  life  twice  in  five  days!" 

"Pretty  good  work,"  commented  M.  Louis,  po- 
litely. 

"The  first  time  was  the  day  after  my  arrival  in 
Paris.  Your  Government  wanted  to  kick  up  a  fuss 
over  the  death  of  the  King's  little  sweetheart;  in  fact, 
they  went  so  far  as  to  talk  of  his  arrest."  Wulf 
stopped  suddenly,  alarmed: 

"But  that  is  a  state  secret  which  I  may  not  tell 
you.  The  second  time  was  yesterday  evening,  or 
rather  early  this  morning.  You  see  the  King  and  I 
had  been  off  on  a  spree  together." 

As  the  barkeeper  looked  surprised  at  this  announce- 
ment, Wulf  explained: 

"Oh,  we're  a  couple  of  pals,  the  King  and  I  ... 
like  two  fingers  of  one  hand  .  .  .  that's  why  I  was  in 
no  hurry  to  answer  his  call  just  now.  .  .  .  Well,  as  I 
was  saying,  we  were  having  a  little  spree,  and  the 
King  was  going  to  introduce  me  to  a  little  .  .  .  but 


1 82  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

that's  another  secret.  .  .  .  I'll  skip  the  details,  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  after  waiting  a  while,  I  found,  in- 
stead of  the  girl,  the  King,  my  King.  And  where? 
Beside  the  Singing  Fountains  in  the  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde. Ah !  my  dear  friends,  what  a  state  he  was  in ! 
I  hardly  knew  him  at  first;  in  fact,  I  shouldn't  have 
known  him  at  all  if  I  were  not  such  a  sharp  detective. 
He  had  removed  his  false  beard  and  spectacles.  I  tell 
you  Frederick-Christian  has  aged  ten  years,  his  clothes 
were  torn  and  covered  with  mud,  and  moreover  he  was 
dead  drunk!  How  he  managed  it  in  the  time  I  don't 
know,  for  he  wasn't  away  from  me  for  more  than  an 
hour.  What  would  you  have  done  in  my  place  ?  Left 
there  in  that  deserted  street  he  would  have  been  at  the 
mercy  of  the  first  thief  or  assassin.  Therefore,  I  say, 
I  saved  his  life  by  putting  him  into  a  cab  and  bringing 
him  back  to  the  Royal  Palace.  While  I  was  helping 
to  put  him  to  bed,  I  noticed  a  letter  pinned  to  his  coat 
with  this  inscription  on  it,  'I  am  to  read  this  when  I 
wake.'  So  I  have  arranged  accordingly.  He'll  see 
it  the  first  thing  on  opening  his  eyes.  Well,  what  do 
you  think  of  that?  Didn't  I  save  the  King's  life  a 
second  time?" 
M.  Louis  nodded: 

"Never  twice  without  the  third  time." 
"I  hope  so  ...  well,  au  revoir,  Monsieur.  ..." 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  183 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,"  interrupted  one  of  the  em- 
ployes, "but  his  Majesty  has  asked  for  you  again." 

"All  right,  I'm  going,"  replied  Wulf,  as  he  drank 
his  fifth  vermouth. 

"Whatever  happens,  whatever  you  are  told,  do- not 
show  any  surprise.  Take  up  your  customary  life 
again  as  though  it  had  never  been  interrupted,  as 
though  nothing  had  happened  since  the  night  of  De- 
cember 3 1  st." 

Frederick-Christian,  the  victim  of  a  racking  head- 
ache, read  and  reread  these  strange  mysterious  words, 
without  in  the  least  understanding  their  meaning. 
After  a  heavy  sleep,  he  had  wakened  about  nine 
o'clock  to  find  himself  lying  comfortably  in  his  own 
bed  at  the  Royal  Palace.  At  first  he  thought  it  was 
part  of  his  nightmare,  that  he  was  dreaming,  but  as 
he  became  more  fully  awake,  he  was  obliged  to  admit 
the  evidence  of  his  senses. 

At  this  moment,  he  suddenly  caught  sight  of  the 
crumpled  letter  pinned  to  his  counterpane ;  opening  it, 
he  read  the  lines  that  Fandor  had  hurriedly  pencilled 
the  night  before. 

In  spite  of  his  exhaustion  and  stiffness,  he  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  was  about  to  ring  for  a  servant  when 
a  feeling  of  caution  came  over  him. 


184  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

It  would  be  better  first  to  take  stock  of  the  situation. 

What  had  happened  ? 

Among  the  newspapers  lying  on  the  table,  he  no- 
ticed several  copies  of  the  Gazette  of  Hesse- Weimar. 

He  glanced  over  the  most  recent  numbers,  but 
found  nothing  unusual  in  their  columns.  He  then 
went  back  to  the  paper  dated  January  ist  and  to  his 
amazement  saw  the  following  announcement : 

"Paris,  ist  January.  (From  our  Special  Corre- 
spondent.) His  Majesty  Frederick-Christian,  con- 
trary to  his  general  custom,  did  not  leave  his  Hotel 
during  New  Year's  Day.  This  may  be  accounted  for 
by  the  fact  that  the  streets  of  Paris  are,  as  a  rule, 
crowded  during  this  holiday  and  his  Majesty  would 
have  run  the  risk  of  being  drawn  into  promiscuous 
contact  with  the  common  people." 

The  copy  of  January  2d  also  remarked  that  the 
King  had  evinced  a  desire  to  attend  the  Longchamps 
races,  but  had  been  prevented  by  the  possibility  of  a 
chance  meeting  with  the  President  of  the  Republic,  a 
contingency  not  foreseen  in  the  protocol.  Frederick- 
Christian,  in  fact,  recalled  that  he  had  expressed  a 
wish  to  attend  the  Longchamps  meet,  but  he  asked 
himself  how  it  was  possible  to  have  notified  him  of 
the  change  of  program  while  at  that  time  he  had 
mysteriously  disappeared!  But  the  climax  of  his 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  185 

amazement  was  reached  when  he  came  to  the  follow- 
ing paragraph: 

"Paris,  4th  January.  (From  our  Special  Corre- 
spondent.) His  Majesty  Frederick-Christian  II  is  still 
held  in  the  French  Capital  by  affairs  of  the  highest 
importance.  His  subjects  need,  however,  be  under  no 
apprehension,  as  his  Majesty's  health  is  excellent,  this 
information  having  been  received  by  Hedwige,  our 
well-beloved  Queen. 

"During  his  stay  in  Paris,  Frederick-Christian  has 
been  especially  appreciative  of  the  respectful  and  de- 
voted services  of  M.  Wulfenmimenglaschk,  head  of  the 
secret  service  of  Hesse- Weimar,  who,  by  the  exercise 
of  his  perspicacity  and  high  intelligence,  has  found  in 
the  King  not  only  an  able  assistant,  but  a  true  friend, 
having  the  honor  to  occupy  the  apartment  at  the  Royal 
Palace  next  to  his  Majesty." 

"What's  this  all  about?"  exclaimed  the  King, 
"what  influence  have  I  been  under  during  these  last 
four  days?" 

It  was  easy  enough  to  recommend  him  to  show  no 
surprise,  but  it  was  also  necessary  to  settle  upon 
some  definite  attitude  to  take.  And  what  about  this 
"Wulf"? 

Frederick-Christian  would  have  a  look  at  this  in- 


1 86  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

dividual  who  claimed  to  be  his  friend  and  his  next 
door  neighbor.  Accordingly  he  rang  the  bell,  and 
sent  down  the  message  which  Wulf  received  in  the 
barroom.  A  wait  of  twenty  minutes  followed  and 
then  the  door  opened  without  ceremony  and  the  King 
stood  rooted  in  amazement  at  the  appearance  of  his 
Secret  Service  Chief.  In  the  most  natural  manner  in 
the  world,  Wulf  entered  the  room  and  stood  looking 
slyly  at  the  King.  Then,  smilingly,  he  said : 

"Well,  Sire,  feel  better?" 

"What!"  stuttered  Frederick-Christian,  scarcely  able 
to  speak  for  indignation. 

"Yes,"  continued  Wulf,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you  up; 
as  for  me,  I'm  all  right  .  .  .  but  you  must  remember 
that  I  drank  less  than  you  did  last  night.  I  tell  you 
they've  capital  vermouth  here  .  .  .  shall  I  order  your 
Majesty  a  bottle?" 

"What's  your  name?"  asked  the  King. 

Wulf  considered  his  sovereign  with  compassion. 

"He's  still  a  bit  soused,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
then  wagging  a  reproving  finger  at  the  King,  he  con- 
tinued : 

"Who  am  I?  Wulfenmimenglaschk,  Sire,  at  your 
service,  and  I've  already  saved  your  life  twice  .  .  . 
that's  why  I  may  be  allowed  to  give  you  a  bit  of  ad- 
vice. Cut  out  the  booze,  Sire,  you're  distinctly  the 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  187 

worse  for  wear  .  .  .  you're  so  changed  that  if  it 
wasn't  for  your  dressing-gown  ..." 

Wulf  was  undoubtedly  very  drunk;  otherwise  he 
could  not  have  failed  to  notice  the  difference  between 
the  King  of  the  last  few  days  and  the  present  one. 

Frederick-Christian  held  himself  in  hand  as  long  as 
possible,  then  burst  out : 

"What  does  this  attitude  mean?  .  .  .  this  familiar- 
ity? What  makes  you  speak  in  French?" 

Wulf  was  first  amazed  at  the  change  in  his  beloved 
master  and  inclined  to  weep  over  his  humiliation.  He 
was  about  to  give  utterance  to  his  feelings  when  the 
King  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  pointed  to  the  Hesse- 
Weimar  Gazette. 

"Read  that!     Who  furnished  this  information?" 

"Why,  I  did,  Sire." 

"Then  you  mean  to  say  you  have  been  continually 
with  me.  You  occupy  the  next  apartment?  You  en- 
joy my  friendship?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

The  King,  in  a  burst  of  rage,  now  held  the  unfor- 
tunate Wulf  by  the  collar  and  shoving  him  toward 
the  door,  ejected  him  onto  the  landing  with  a  prodig- 
ious kick. 

Frederick-Christian,  more  puzzled  than  ever  by  the 


1 88  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

turn  of  events,  now  turned  his  attention  to  his  toilette. 
He  was  still  in  scanty  attire  and  went  behind  his  screen 
to  continue  dressing.  At  this  moment  a  soft  and 
charming  voice  spoke: 

"Sire,  are  you  there  ?    It  is  I  ...  Marie  Pascal." 

Marie  Pascal! 

Where  had  he  heard  that  name  before?  Slowly 
Frederick-Christian  recalled  the  silhouette  of  a  young 
woman  .  .  .  with  a  fair  skin  and  light  hair  .  .  . 

The  voice  continued: 

"I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  better,  Sire.  For- 
give me  for  troubling  you  now  but  since  our  last  meet- 
ing things  have  happened  of  a  very  serious  nature  .  .  . 
hidden  enemies  want  to  destroy  me  ...  to  destroy  us. 
.  .  .  First  of  all  they  accused  your  Majesty  of  the 
murder  of  Susy  d'Orsel,  and  now  after  torturing  me 
with  questions  they  have  dared  to  say  it  was  I!  ... 
I'm  sure  they  overheard  our  last  conversation  and 
misunderstand  our  love  for  each  other.  ..." 

Frederick-Christian  was  growing  suspicious.  What 
did  this  extraordinary  visit  mean?  Did  they  want 
to  trap  him  into  an  unwary  admission? 

"In  the  name  of  our  love,  say  you  don't  believe  me 
guilty!" 

The  King  hesitated. 

"I  don't  know.  .      .  I  .      ." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  189 

He  stopped  short  as  Marie  Pascal  with  a  sudden 
movement  flung  down  the  screen.  The  King  in  amaze 
stood  stock  still  while  the  young  girl  looked  at  him 
in  utter  stupefaction,  with  trembling  lips  and  body 
shaken  by  nervous  tremors.  Then  suddenly  she 
turned  in  terror,  screaming: 

"Help!  Help!  The  impostor!  The  murderer! 
.  .  .  the  King  is  not  the  King.  .  .  .  Frederick-Chris- 
tian has  disappeared!  .  .  .  Who  is  this  man?" 

The  girl's  cries  brought  the  Hotel  servants  quickly 
to  the  scene.  She  continued,  pointing  to  the  King: 

"Who  is  this  man?  .  .  .  Frederick-Christian  has 
disappeared !  .  .  .  good  God,  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Better  call  the  police,"  suggested  some  one. 

This  met  with  general  approval,  but  proceedings 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Wulf. 

"Have  you  heard?"  several  voices  asked. 

"All  I  know,"  replied  Wulf  in  a  piteous  tone,  "is 
that  Frederick-Christian  or  not,  he's  got  a  devilish 
heavy  foot,  and  when  he  kicks,  he  kicks  royally." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HORRIBLE  CERTAINTY 

"TTTHAT   has   happened   to   that   idiot   Juve? 

y  V  Here  for  three  days  I've  been  shut  up  in 
this  beastly  prison  and  no  sign  of  him." 

As  the  days  passed,  Fandor  gradually  lost  his  buoy- 
ancy of  spirits  and  became  more  and  more  anxious. 

"What  can  Juve  be  doing?"  he  repeated  for  the 
hundredth  time. 

The  continual  obscurity  of  the  place  began  to  weigh 
him  down.  This  was  relieved  each  day  for  a  few 
moments  by  a  thin  shaft  of  light.  Fandor  was  quick 
to  account  for  the  phenomenon. 

"It  happens  exactly  at  noon  when  the  sun  is  directly 
overhead,"  he  reasoned,  "and  finds  an  entrance  through 
a  crack  in  the  bronze." 

Many  times  he  climbed  to  the  body  of  the  naiad 
in  the  hope  of  discovering  some  method  of  escape,  but 
at  length  he  realized  that  the  thing  was  impossible. 

He  was  seated  one  night  deep  in  thought,  puzzling 
his  brains  for  the  reason  of  Juve's  defection,  when 
a  voice  suddenly  broke  the  silence. 

"Can  you  hear  me?" 

190 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  191 

Fandor  bounded  to  his  feet. 

"Yes,  I  hear  you." 

"You  must  be  getting  uneasy?" 

"Uneasy!  I'm  going  mad!  What  a  long  time 
you've  been !" 

"That's  true,  I  am  a  little  late,  but  it  hasn't  been 
very  easy." 

Now  that  Fandor's  mind  was  set  at  rest  about  his 
deliverance,  he  grew  curious  to  know  the  results  of 
the  detective's  investigation. 

"Well,  you  were  successful?" 

"Yes,  quite  successful." 

"Do  they  know  in  Glotzbourg?" 

"They  must  have  some  suspicion  by  now." 

"When  did  you  get  back?" 

"This  morning." 

"Only  this  morning!     And  did  you  get  my  letter?" 

"Your  what,  Sire?  ...  I  don't  catch." 

"I  say  you  must  have  got  my  letter,  since  you  are 
here,  and  now  please  get  me  out  of  this  hole  as  quickly 
as  possible  .  .  .  it's  awful  being  shut  up  here  .  .  . 
you  can't  imagine  how  I  long  for  a  breath  of  fresh 
air." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,  but  I'm  wondering  how 
I'm  to  get  you  out." 

"What's  that?" 


192  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"Have  you  thought  over  a  way  we  can  effect  the 
exchange?" 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  must  know  what  to  do. 
I  gave  you  full  particulars  in  my  letter." 

"In  your  letter?" 

"Yes.  ...  I  even  enclosed  a  diagram." 

There  was  a  pause,  the  voice  then  asked : 

"Will  you  pass  me  up  this  letter  by  .  .  ." 

Fandor  interrupted : 

"Why,  it's  quite  simple!  Find  the  third  naiad, 
counting  from  the  one  nearest  the  bridge." 

Suddenly  the  voice  explained : 

"Look  here,  Sire,  we  are  talking  at  cross  purposes. 
I  am  asking  you  where  we  can  exchange  the  dia- 
mond." 

"The  diamond?" 

"Yes!    Your  diamond." 

Fandor's  face  grew  pale. 

"My  diamond!" 

"The  diamond  I  went  to  Glotzbourg  to  get  .  .  . 
what's  the  matter  with  you,  Sire  ?  Don't  you  remem- 
ber? .  .  .  And  what's  all  this  about  a  letter?" 

"Why,  Juve!  I'm  talking  of  the  letter  I  left  at 
your  apartment  in  which  I  explained  how  you  may 
reach  me!" 

"Juve!    Juve!    Oho!" 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  193 

A  burst  of  strident  laughter,  infernal  and  diabolical, 
reached  Fandor,  who  now  guessed  the  horrible  truth. 

"If  it  isn't  Juve  who  is  speaking,  who  is  it?"  he 
cried.  "For  the  love  of  God,  who  are  you?" 

"The  person  speaking  to  you  ...  is  Fantomas." 

"Fantomas !" 

Staggering,  terrified,  Fandor  screamed: 

"Fantomas!  Fantomas!  ...  It  can't  be  possible! 
Fantomas  has  been  arrested!  Fantomas  is  in  the 
hands  of  Juve !" 

"Fantomas  arrested?  .  .  .  Fantomas  can't  be  ar- 
rested! He  will  never  be  caught!  He  is  above  and 
beyond  every  attack,  every  menace!  Fantomas  is 
Death,  Eternal  Death,  Pitiless  Death,  King  Death! 
Good-bye!" 

A  long  silence  followed.  Fandor  was  stunned  by 
the  awful  reality.  He  experienced  all  the  sensations  of 
a  man  buried  alive,  condemned  to  death  with  torture. 
And  then  another  thought  flashed  through  his  mind  : 

"The  papers  spoke  of  Fantomas's  arrest.  But  if 
Fantomas  is  at  liberty,  it  must  mean  that  Juve  has 
been  beaten !  Juve  went  to  Glotzbourg  to  arrest  him. 
A  man  has  been  arrested  under  the  name  of  Fantomas. 
That  man  must  be  Juve  himself!" 

And  his  letter!  The  first  thing  Fantomas  would 
do  would  be  to  go  to  Juve's  apartment  and  destroy  it. 


194  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"He  has  got  me,"  he  exclaimed.  "He  can  choose 
his  own  time  to  kill  me.  He  can  send  down  asphyxi- 
ating gas  or  a  deluge  of  water  through  the  connecting 
tube,  or  he  can  just  leave  me  here  to  die  slowly  of 
hunger  and  thirst." 

The  journalist  began  pacing  up  and  down  his  prison. 
He  tried  to  recover  his  calm  and  argue  the  case  out: 

"Here  I  am  in  perfect  health,  clear  in  my  mind 
and  able  to  struggle  to  the  bitter  end.  I  have  enough 
food  and  water  to  last  me  about  nine  or  ten  days.  In 
my  pocket  I  have  my  revolver,  so  that  I  can  blow 
my  brains  out  if  it  comes  to  the  worst.  But  I  won't. 
I'll  fight!  I'll  fight  until  I  drop!" 


CHAPTER   XXII 

BETWEEN    US   THREE — FANTOMAS  ! 

FOR  the  second  time,  the  Grand  Duchess  Alex- 
andra solemnly  repeated  to  the  Queen : 

"I  have  the  honor  to  take  leave  of  your 
Majesty,  and  I  dare  to  hope  that  I  may  hear  news 
of  your  Majesty  when  I  reach  my  journey's  end.  I 
shall  be  away  a  long  while  from  the  court  of  Hesse- 
Weimar  and  from  its  august  Sovereign  for  whom  I 
profess  the  deepest  respect." 

The  interview  between  the  Queen  and  the  woman 
she  deemed  her  mortal  enemy  took  place  about  eleven 
o'clock,  two  days  after  the  famous  ball  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  detective  Juve  had  so  unfortunately  been 
mistaken  for  Fantomas,  and  thrown  into  a  gloomy 
dungeon  where  he  had  since  been  kept  in  solitary 
confinement.  Opinion  at  Hesse- Weimar  was  divided 
between  the  theory  that  the  thief  had  succeeded  in 
hiding  the  famous  diamond  before  he  was  caught, 
and  the  theory  that  when  he  discovered  its  hiding 
place,  he  had  found  an  empty  jewel  case.  Naturally, 
the  identity  of  the  Grand  Duchess  with  the  famous 
Lady  Beltham,1  established  by  Juve,  was  unknown  in 

i  See  "Fantomas,"  Vols.  I,  II,  III. 

195 


196  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Hesse- Weimar,  nor  did  anyone  suspect  that  her  sud- 
den departure  was  in  any  way  connected  with  the 
arrest  of  the  pseudo  Fantomas. 

The  Queen  was  at  first  unwilling  to  believe  in  the 
retreat  of  her  enemy,  but  she  was  at  length  obliged  to 
accept  the  fact  when  Alexandra  made  her  formal 
adieux. 

"There  was  a  rumor  that  you  were  going  to  leave 
us,"  she  replied,  "but  I  scarcely  credited  it,  Madame." 

The  adventuress,  who  by  a  series  of  extraordinary 
circumstances  had  been  enabled  to  pass  herself  as  a 
cousin  of  the  reigning  family,  looked  at  the  Queen 
sadly : 

"Your  Majesty  is  not  very  kind  to  me,"  she  ex- 
claimed with  tears  in  her  voice,  "and  I  hoped  for  a 
more  friendly  farewell  at  the  moment  when  I  am 
taking  my  departure  for  the  new  world." 

The  Queen  was  touched  by  these  words;  with  an 
impulsive  movement  she  opened  her  arms  to  the  false 
Grand  Duchess,  who  flung  herself  into  them  in  a  long 
embrace. 

The  two  women  now  had  a  heart  to  heart  talk  in 
which  the  Queen  confessed  her  fears  and  distrust. 
She  even  went  to  the  length  of  admitting  her  belief 
that  Alexandra  had  had  designs  upon  the  throne  of 
Hesse-Weimar. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  197 

The  adventuress  looked  with  pitying  contempt  upon 
the  little  Queen  Hedwige : 

"Your  Majesty  has  been  outrageously  deceived," 
she  replied,  "I  belong  to  a  race  which  is  incapable  of 
such  treachery." 

Completely  reassured,  the  Queen  became  very  tender 
and  ended  affectionately  by  wishing  the  pseudo  Duch- 
ess a  good  journey.  The  two  women  parted  friends. 

On  a  siding  in  the  Glotzbourg  station  stood  a  pri- 
vate car,  which  had  been  placed  at  the  service  of  the 
Grand  Duchess,  waiting  to  be  connected  with  the 
Paris  express  from  Berlin. 

Inside,  the  Duchess,  dressed  in  a  quiet  traveling 
costume,  sat  talking  to  Prince  Gudulfin.  The  young 
man  was  pale  and  anxious: 

"Your  orders  have  been  carried  out,  Madame,  are 
you  satisfied  ?" 

The  pseudo  Grand  Duchess  thanked  the  Prince  with 
a  softened  look,  and  the  latter  continued  in  a  low 
voice : 

"Madame,  you  know  that  my  followers  are  pre- 
pared to  try  a  coup  d'etat — for  pity's  sake  accept  the 
homage  of  my  love,  give  me  a  word  of  hope,  and  I 
will  overthrow  the  present  dynasty  and  mount  the 
throne  myself  with  you  as  my  Queen." 


198  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"That  is  nothing  but  a  mad  dream,  Prince  .  .  . 
something  impossible  to  happen  ...  we  have  not  the 
right  even  to  think  of  it." 

"You  are  more  than  unkind  to  me,  Madame  .  .  . 
you  are  enigmatic  .  .  .  mysterious." 

At  this  moment  a  newsboy  was  heard  crying  an 
extra  edition  of  the  Hesse-Weimar  Gazette.  The 
Duchess  rose  quickly  and  bought  a  copy. 

In  large  headlines  she  read  the  following: 

"Death  of  Fantomas.  The  bandit  ends  his  days  in 
prison." 

Alexandra  sat  down  and  became  absorbed  in  the 
details,  paying  no  further  attention  to  Prince  Gu- 
dulfin. 

At  length  after  a  long  pause,  he  spoke  bitterly: 

"This  bandit  seems  to  interest  you  more  than  I  do, 
Madame." 

The  Grand  Duchess  made  a  vague  gesture  of  denial. 

The  Prince  sighed : 

"Ah,  you  might  remember  that  in  this  sinister  busi- 
ness, the  account  of  which  you  are  now  reading, 
it  is  owing  to  me  your  wishes  have  been  carried  out. 
You  have  been  obeyed  blindly." 

Lady  Beltham  was  spared  the  necessity  of  replying, 
for  at  this  moment  the  express  entered  the  station 
with  a  deafening  roar.  As  it  was  scheduled  to  remain 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  199 

only  a  few  minutes,  the  private  car  was  hurriedly  at- 
tached to  the  end  of  the  train.  In  the  ensuing  hurry 
and  scurry  of  passengers  who  were  anxiously  being 
scrutinized  by  the  Grand  Duchess,  there  appeared  a 
man  dressed  in  dark  clothes,  and  wearing  a  gray 
beard.  He  was  searching  hurriedly  through  the  cars 
for  an  empty  seat.  The  Duchess  gave  a  faint  cry  at 
the  sight  of  him,  and  withdrew  to  the  back  of  her 
compartment. 

Who  was  it? 

The  train  whistled  and  the  last  good-byes  were  said. 

Prince  Gudulfin  pleaded  so  urgently  for  a  tender 
word,  that  the  adventuress,  with  the  consummate  art 
of  the  actress,  leaned  out,  whispering : 

"Hope,  Prince,  hope  .  .  .  some  day,  perhaps  .  .  . 
later  .  .  .  and  remember  that  even  the  most  virtuous 
of  women,  when  she  cannot  give  encouragement,  is 
not  averse  to  leaving  regrets  behind  her." 

During  the  evening  which  preceded  Lady  Beltham's 
departure,  Juve  sat  in  his  cell  eating  his  frugal  re- 
past. 

For  forty-eight  hours  he  had  seen  no  one  except 
his  two  jailors,  and  he  was  beginning  to  worry  over 
his  situation.  There  had  now  been  plenty  of  time 
for  them  to  discover  their  mistake  in  arresting  him. 


2OO 


His  eyes  had  pained  him  greatly  the  first  day  but  were 
now  slowly  recovering.  Feeling  a  desire  to  sleep,  Juve 
stretched  himself  on  his  bed  and  gave  way  to  reflec- 
tion. 

What  had  happened? 

It  was  not  difficult  to  guess.  The  officers  of  the 
Palace,  finding  him  in  the  King's  bedroom,  a  smoking 
revolver  beside  him  and  a  Lancer  crying  "Thief! 
thief !"  had  naturally  arrested  him,  thinking  him  guilty. 
Fantomas,  after  blinding  him  with  pepper,  had  changed 
back  into  his  uniform  and  escaped  with  the  diamond. 
But  what  was  Lady  Beltham  doing  there  known  to  the 
Hesse- Weimar  people  as  the  Grand  Duchess  Alex- 
andra? What  new  and  diabolical  projects  were  on 
foot  to  bring  the  monster  and  his  mistress  together 
in  this  honest,  bourgeois  court  of  Hesse-Weimar? 

As  for  the  diamond,  of  what  possible  use  could  it 
be  to  the  thief  ?  It  would  be  harder  to  get  rid  of  than 
the  obelisk  or  the  Vendome  column ! 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  slowly  through 
Juve's  mind,  he  felt  an  intense  desire  to  sleep  come 
over  him,  his  limbs  suddenly  became  numb  and  heavy ; 
and  then  a  sudden  terror  seized  him. 

"I  have  been  poisoned!"  he  cried,  making  a  super- 
human effort  to  rise ;  but  the  narcotic  was  slowly  but 
surely  overpowering  him.  Finally,  he  lost  all  idea  of 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  201 

his  surroundings  and  sank  back  on  his  bed  uncon- 
scious. 

Had  the  day  come? 

A  pale  light  touched  with  yellow  and  silver  rays, 
crept  softly  through  the  half-opened  door  and  reached 
the  face  of  a  sleeping-  man;  causing  him  to  stir  and 
to  opert  his  eyes,  blinking  and  yawning.  It  was  Juve. 

The  first  thing  his  gaze  lighted  upon  was  a  round 
moon  in  a  blue  sky  sown  with  stars.  The  detective 
who  had  gone  to  sleep  in  a  dungeon,  smiled  instinc- 
tively at  the  heavens  and  the  fresh,  pure  air  which 
filled  the  room.  By  degrees  his  mind  went  back  to 
the  events  of  the  past  night,  the  heavy  sleep  that  had 
come  over  him,  and  he  wondered  how  much  time  had 
elapsed  since  he  had  lost  consciousness.  He  had, 
besides,  the  impression  that  beneath  his  ample  and 
warm  bed  clothes  he  was  quite  naked.  His  move- 
ments, too,  seemed  constricted  as  though  he  were 
lying  in  a  narrow  frame  bed  placed  on  the  ground. 

But  where  was  he? 

Thanks  to  the  moonlight,  he  could  perceive  that  he 
was  in  a  room  on  the  ground  floor.  Outside,  shapes 
flitted  by,  and  these  Juve  soon  found  to  be  bats  hurry- 
ing to  their  nearby  lairs.  An  owl  hooted  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  detective  determined  to  make  an  effort  to 


202  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

get  up.    To  his  surprise  he  met  with  no  resistance  and 

• 

easily  climbed  out  of  the  sort  of  box  in  which  he  had 
been  lying. 

As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  semi-obscur- 
ity, he  started  upon  seeing  the  bed  he  had  been  lying 
in.  It  was  a  coffin. 

Juve  then  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  horrible 
death  he  might  have  undergone.  He  might  have  been 
buried  alive !  But  a  further  surprise  was  in  store  for 
him.  Not  far  away  stood  another  coffin,  and  in  this 
second  one  lay  a  corpse. 

The  dead  man  was  about  fifty,  strongly  built  and 
robust.  A  small  clot  of  blood  had  congealed  on  his 
temple  and  this  was  enough  to  show  Juve  the  cause  of 
his  death. 

He  had  been  shot  through  the  head  with  a  revolver, 
and  his  death  had  been  instantaneous.  The  rigidity 
of  the  body  showed  that  the  crime  had  been  committed 
some  time  before.  And  then  he  made  a  still  further 
discovery.  By  the  side  of  the  coffin  lay  a  pile  of 
clothes,  and  to  Juve's  amazement  he  recognized  them 
as  being  his  own ! 

"Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  can  be  no  harm  in 
putting  them  on,  since  they  are  mine.  A  further 
search  disclosed,  tucked  away  in  a  corner  of  the  coffin, 
his  pocketbook.  Not  only  that,  but  some  generous 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  203 

person  had  stuffed  it  literally  full  of  bank  notes,  and 
in  a  small  pocket  he  also  found  a  first-class  ticket 
from  Glotzbourg  to  the  frontier. 

"What  on  earth  does  all  this  mean?"  he  exclaimed. 

A  search  of  his  erstwhile  bed  now  brought  to  light 
a  sheet  torn  from  a  railway  time-table,  upon  which  a 
certain  train  was  underscored  in  red  ink.  From  an- 
other corner  of  the  coffin  he  brought  out  a  false  beard 
and  a  pair  of  yellow  spectacles !  In  a  twinkling  Juve 
dressed  himself  and  crossing  to  the  door,  pushed  it 
open  and  looked  out. 

"The  deuce!"  he  cried,  "that's  a  funereal  out- 
look!" 

Before  him  stretched  away  on  all  sides  .  .  .  tomb- 
stones !  tombstones  big  and  little — some  with  crosses, 
others  with  crowns  and  flowers. 

Juve  was  in  a  cemetery,  and  the  strange  room  in 
which  he  found  himself  was  the  mortuary  chapel. 
Nothing  disturbed  the  impressive  silence  of  this  vast 
resting  place.  In  the  distance  a  clock  struck  five,  and 
far  off  Juve  perceived  the  silhouette  of  the  Glotz- 
bourg Cathedral. 

The  detective  pulled  himself  together  and  began 
to  piece  out  by  his  well-known  habit  of  induction  some 
solution  to  this  incomprehensible  mystery. 

"To  begin  with,"  he  exclaimed,  "my  being  still  alive 


204  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

is  evidently  due  to  the  will  of  my  adversaries.  It  is 
possible  that  the  police  of  Hesse- Weimar  may  have 
discovered  their  mistake,  and  taken  this  method  of 
setting  me  at  liberty.  Or,  it  has  been  given  out  that 
I  am  dead,  and  they  intend  to  bury  this  poor  fellow 
in  my  place.  .  .  . 

"No,  that's  stupid.  I  was  forgetting  it  is  Fan- 
tomas  who  is  supposed  to  be  caught,  then  are  they 
going  to  give  out  that  Fantomas  is  dead?  .  .  .  That 
seems  out  of  the  question.  .  .  .  Besides  this  man  didn't 
die  a  natural  death,  he  was  killed !  I  can't  make  head 
or  tail  of  it." 

Juve  paced  up  and  down,  rejecting  one  hypothesis 
after  another.  Finally,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
he  cried: 

"Bah!  I  shall  know  all  in  good  time.  Let's  get 
to  the  most  pressing  problem.  I  have  been  given 
money,  a  ticket  with  the  time  of  departure  marked  on 
the  time-table,  that  is  as  much  as  to  say : 

"  'My  dear  Sir,  you  are  to  go  to  the  Station  and 
take  the  1.22  train,  first  class,  for  the  frontier,  there 
you  will  be  left  to  your  own  devices  .  .  .  but  be  care- 
ful to  use  the  disguise  given  you." 

"Well,"  continued  Juve  to  himself,  "I  haven't  the 
least  desire  to  thwart  my  mysterious  friends,  having 
no  wish  to  prolong  my  visit  here." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  205 

Soon  afterward  Juve  set  out  toward  the  town.  As 
he  walked  the  dawn  broke  on  the  horizon. 

For  three  hours  the  Berlin  express  had  been  speed- 
ing across  Hesse-Weimar  on  its  way  to  Paris.  Night 
was  beginning  to  fall  and  multi-colored  signals  showed 
their  points  of  light  as  the  train  sped  past  way  sta- 
tions. 

Juve,  plunged  in  his  thoughts,  paid  no  attention  to 
what  was  passing  without.  He  had  picked  up  a  copy 
of  the  Hesse-Weimar  Gazette  before  leaving,  and  in 
it  had  read  the  following : 

"The  desperate  bandit,  Fantomas,  arrested  two  days 
ago  in  the  Royal  Palace  while  in  the  act  of  stealing 
the  diamond,  has  committed  suicide  by  shooting  him- 
self through  the  head  with  a  small  revolver  he  had 
hidden  in  his  clothes.  His  body  is  now  lying  in  the 
mortuary  chapel  of  the  cemetery  awaiting  the  inevi- 
table autopsy." 

This  information  but  confirmed  Juve  in  the  hy- 
pothesis he  had  formed.  But  there  still  remained  a 
point  to  be  cleared  up.  Undoubtedly  the  public  were 
being  duped  .  .  .  but  who  was  duping  them,  and  why  ? 
If  Juve  was  thought  to  be  Fantomas,  they  wouldn't 
have  let  him  escape  and  put  a  dead  man  in  his  place. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  they  knew  that  Juve  was  not 


206  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

Fantomas,  why  the  devil  had  this  suicide  story  been 
invented  ? 

A  new  idea  suddenly  flashed  through  Juve's  mind. 

"Suppose  that  not  only  the  people  of  Hesse-Weimar 
but  also  the  Government  have  been  fooled !" 

A  glimpse  caught  of  Prince  Gudulfin  descending 
from  the  private  car  at  the  Hesse-Weimar  station,  was 
sufficient  to  start  this  train  of  thought.  By  associa- 
tion of  ideas  the  sight  of  the  Prince  brought  to  Juve's 
mind  the  figure  of  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra,  who 
was  no  other  than  Lady  Beltham.  And  Lady  Bel- 
tham  suggested  Fantomas,  whom  Juve  was  inclined 
to  credit  not  only  with  his  arrest  but  also  with  his 
liberation. 

When  the  train  pulled  into  the  Frontier  Station 
Juve,  still  wearing  his  false  beard  and  whiskers, 
jumped  down  and  hurried  to  the  ticket  office  to  buy 
his  transportation  to  Paris.  As  he  was  returning,  he 
happened  to  glance  at  the  private  car  attached  to  the 
train  at  Glotzbourg,  when,  in  spite  of  his  self-control, 
he  could  not  repress  a  cry  of  triumph. 

One  of  the  window  curtains  was  suddenly  raised 
and  then  immediately  lowered  again,  but  Juve  had 
time  to  recognize  a  face.  It  was  that  of  the  Grand 
Duchess  Alexandra  .  .  .  otherwise  Lady  Beltham. 
The  train  whistled. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  207 

^_j^M.___M___MMM«_______ 

Juve  had  only  just  time  to  regain  hie  compartment. 
He  began  pacing  up  and  down  the  corridor,  rubbing 
his  hands,  almost  jumping  for  joy.  At  last  the  mys- 
tery was  cleared.  He  understood  what  had  been  go- 
ing on.  Lady  Beltham  had  fainted  when  Juve  was 
arrested.  Why  ? 

Evidently,  because  she  had  accepted  the  general 
opinion  that  he  was  Fantomas.  After  coming  to  her- 
self and  learning  that  the  monster  was  in  prison,  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  effect  his  escape  cost  what 
it  might. 

But  how  was  she  to  set  about  it? 

Doubtless  Lady  Beltham,  in  her  capacity  of  Grand 
Duchess,  had  many  devoted  friends,  and  it  was  evi- 
dently with  their  aid  that  the  evasion  had  been  brought 
about.  And  Lady  Beltham,  herself  a  dupe,  still  im- 
agined it  was  her  lover  she  had  saved ;  when  in  reality 
she  had  set  at  liberty  his  most  determined  enemy. 

As  the  air  now  began  to  grow  chilly,  Juve  returned 
to  his  compartment  and  picked  up  his  overcoat.  He 
was  about  to  put  it  on,  when  he  stopped  in  amazement. 

On  the  lining  was  pinned  a  paper  with  the  follow- 
ing words  scribbled  in  pencil: 

"America  Hotel,  Paris." 

For  a  long  time  Juve,  with  bent  brows,  read  and 
reread  these  words.  They  could  only  have  been 


2o8  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

brought  here  by  Lady  Beltham  herself  while  Juve  was 
away  getting  his  ticket.  What  did  this  mysterious  ad- 
dress portend? 

If  Lady  Beltham  believed  she  was  communicating 
•\vith  Fantomas,  she  certainly  would  have  no  need  to 
\vrite  to  him;  she  would  know  well  enough  where  to 
find  him. 

Furthermore,  why  didn't  she  simply  walk  through 
the  several  intervening  cars  and  talk  to  him?  What 
could  be  the  motive  powerful  enough  to  prevent  the 
mistress  rejoining.her  lover?  Upon  second  thoughts 
Juve  doubted  the  hypothesis  that  Lady  Beltham  had 
intended  to  instigate  the  release* of  Fantomas.  Might 
she  not  have  become  weary  of  the  yoke  which  joined 
her  to  this  monster  and  be  really  repentant  of  her 
crimes?  It  would  not  be  the  first  time  she  had  tasted 
remorse — and,  instead  of  saving  Fantomas,  was  aware 
that  Juve  had  been  set  at  liberty. 

"Yes,"  echoed  Juve,  "this  second  hypothesis  is  evi- 
dently the  right  one  and  Lady  Beltham  has  ranged 
herself  upon  the  side  of  law." 

The  detective,  with  a  defiant  glance  at  the  deepen- 
ing evening  shadows,  proclaimed  grandiloquently: 

"So  be  it,  Lady  Beltham,  it  shall  not  be  said  that  a 
gallant  man  repays  you  with  ingratitude,  and  if  you 
care  to  have  it  so  we  will  say  in  unison : 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  209 

"Between  us  three,  Fantomas !" 

The  train  thundered  through  the  night.  It  was 
only  at  seven  in  the  morning  that  the  suburbs  of 
Paris  showed  through  an  uncertain  fog. 

Saint  Denis,  the  fortifications,  and  then  the  train 
slowed  up  and  stopped  under  the  great  glass  dome  of 
the  Gare  du  Nord.  Juve,  waking  with  a  start,  hastily 
sprang  out  and  made  his  way  to  the  private  car  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  Lady  Beltham.  But  the  Lady  had 
already  disappeared.  .  .  .  Juve  caught  up  with  her 
just  in  time  to  see  her  enter  an  automobile  which  in- 
stantly got  under  way.  He  managed  to  catch  the 
number  of  the  car,  but  could  not  find  a  taxi  rapid 
enough  to  make  the  attempt  of  overtaking  her. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  know  how  to  find  her." 

A  sudden  thought  struck  him : 

"The  delay  accorded  me  by  M.  Annion  expires  to- 
day, and  the  arrest  of  the  false  Frederick-Christian  is 
about  due.  I  don't  suppose  Fandor  has  taken  any 
steps,  but  I'd  better  find  out  what  is  happening." 

Juve  consulted  his  watch : 

"Half-past  seven,  I  can  call  on  the  Minister  of  the 
Interior." 

He  sprang  into  a  taxi  and  cried : 

"Number  eleven,  Rue  des  Saussaies!" 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

OFFICIAL   OPINIONS 

"TT  TELL,  M.  Vicart?" 

YY       "Well,  M.  Annion,  that's  all." 

"That's  all !"  replied  M.  Annion.  "That's 
nothing !  We've  been  talking  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
without  getting  anywhere  or  reaching  any  conclusion." 

"But,  M.  Annion.  .  .  ." 

"No,  I  say.  ...  It  is  I  who  have  been  giving  you 
all  the  information  and  that,  you  know,  is  rather  sur- 
prising. .  .  .  You  are  the  acting  head  of  the  Secret 
Service  and  you  should  have  known  all  this.  It's  not 
my  place  to  tell  you  what's  going  on  at  the  Royal 
Palace." 

"M.  Annion,  nothing  at  all  has  happened." 

This  reply  threw  M.  Annion  into  a  sudden  fit  of 
anger. 

"Is  that  so  ?  Nothing  has  happened,  hasn't  it  ?  And 
you  don't  realize  the  gravity  of  the  case !  Really,  Vi- 
cart, it's  discouraging!  Can't  you  understand  that  we 
must  absolutely  come  to  some  decision  ?  The  ministry 
is  under  the  constant  threat  of  interpellations  and  that 
state  of  affairs  cannot  continue." 

2IO 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  211 

"Oh,  I  don't  say  the  situation  isn't  serious,  I  only 
say  nothing  new  has  turned  up." 

"That's  just  what  I'm  complaining  about — your  ab- 
solute lack  of  comprehension.  To  begin  with,  a  week 
has  gone  by  ...  a  whole  week  since  Juve  left,  and 
not  a  word  from  Glotzbourg.  ...  In  fact,  Juve  is  a 
day  late  already.  .  .  .  Does  that  convey  nothing  to 
you?  ...  To  me  it  means  that  Juve  has  found  noth- 
ing there." 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  ventured  the  bewildered 
Vicart. 

M.  Annion  took  pity  on  his  subordinate. 

"Before  Juve  left  he  had  proved  to  me  that  the  King 
was  the  real  King;  isn't  that  so?" 

"Yes." 

"But  that  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that  the  King  is  a 
murderer.  .  .  .  Juve  suspected  some  court  intrigue, 
that's  why  he  left  for  Glotzbourg.  Now  what  is  our 
situation  ?  We  have  a  King  who  has  committed  mur- 
der, and  we  don't  arrest  him.  But  that  is  the  least  of 
my  worries.  What  about  public  opinion  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  extraordinary  audacity  of  this  monasch 
on  the  other?" 

"Public  opinion  ?" 

"Yes!  why  the  deuce  don't  you  read  the  papers? 
Learn  what  is  going  on !  Take  the  opposition  press — 


212  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

they're  always  hinting  at  the  weakness  of  the  govern- 
ment in  not  arresting  criminals  on  account  of  diplo- 
matic complications.  While  I've  seen  to  it  that  no 
more  manifestations  take  place  outside  the  Royal  Pal- 
ace, that  the  public  for  the  time  being  is  muzzled,  still 
it  is  only  waiting  a  chance  to  break  out  again.  And 
now  here  is  Frederick-Christian  writing  to  the  Min- 
ister of  Foreign  Affairs  saying  he  wishes  to  meet  the 
President  of  the  Republic  .  .  .  while  he  is  here  incog- 
nito. Still,  by  the  terms  of  the  protocol,  he  owes  a 
visit  to  the  Elysee — he's  right  about  that." 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"Why,  it  complicates  things  very  awkwardly.  How 
can  the  President  receive,  especially  incognito,  a  King 
who  is  thought  to  be  an  assassin  .  .  .  you  don't  know 
what  might  be  made  of  it.  ...  This  extraordinary 
Frederick-Christian  takes  advantage  of  his  impunity. 
He's  had  lots  of  time  since  the  death  of  Susy  to  slip 
quietly  back  to  his  own  country.  .  .  .  That  would 
have  let  us  out  .  .  .  instead  of  which  he  comes  out  in 
the  limelight  .  .  .  gets  himself  talked  about  ...  a 
nice  time  to  choose,  I  must  say !" 

M.  Annion  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  clerk 
who  handed  him  a  visiting  card. 

"Who  is  it  now  ?  .  .  .  Ah  .  .  .  show  them  in." 

He  then  turned  to  M.  Vicart : 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  213 

"Don't  go.  ...  It  may  be  something  connected 
•with  the  King." 

The  door  was  opened  and* the  visitors  announced: 

"M.  the  Commissaire  of  Police  Giraud — Mile.  Marie 
Pascal." 

"Well,  Monsieur  Giraud  .  .  .  take  a  seat,  Mademoi- 
selle .  .  .  what  have  you  come  about?" 

"A  very  serious  business,"  answered  M.  Giraud.  "I 
have  come  to  see  you  after  a  visit  from  Mile.  Marie 
Pascal.  She  will  repeat  to  you  the  extraordinary 
things  she  has  said  to  me." 

"What  is  it  all  about,  Mademoiselle?" 

Pale  and  anxious,  Marie  Pascal  rose  and  advanced 
to  M.  Annion's  desk,  and  said,  with  a  trembling  voice : 

"Monsieur,  I  went  to  M.  Giraud  about  a  call  I 
wanted  to  make  on  his  Majesty  Frederick-Christian, 
King  of  Hesse- Weimar." 

"Yes?" 

"Well,  Monsieur,  I  was  not  received  by  the  King." 

M.  Annion  evinced  no  surprise. 

"Unless  I  am  mistaken  you- are  the  lace-maker  who 
was  so  tragically  mixed  up*  in  the  death  of.  Susy  d'Or- 
sel?  .  .  .  It  was  you  who  found  the  chemise  ...  it 
was  you  who  .  .  .  however,  go  ahead,  Mademoiselle, 
you  were  received  by  a  secretary,  by  a  chamber- 
lain?" 


214  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"No!  no!  I  was  received  by  the  King,  but 
by  a  King  who  wasn't  the  real  one,  but  an  impos- 
tor!" 

"Good  God !"  cried  M.  Annion. 

Here  was  this  impostor  affair  cropping  up  again. 
The  girl  must  be  crazy. 

"But  it's  unbelievable !  Come,  Mademoiselle,  weigh 
well  the  gravity  of  your  words — you  can  scarcely  be 
making  this  up  as  a  joke,  I  hope.  You  can  furnish 
absolute  proof  of  what  you  say?  Why  do  you  think 
the  King  is  not  the  King?" 

Marie  Pascal  had  recovered  her  self-control,  and 
she  gave  M.  Annion  a  detailed  account  of  the  audience 
she  had  obtained  with  Frederick-Christian.  She  hid 
nothing,  neither  his  former  warmth  of  feeling  nor  his 
recent  coldness.  She  explained  that  his  face  no  longer 
looked  the  same,  nor  had  his  voice  the  same  sound, 
that  he  had  attempted  to  hide  behind  the  screen  and 
finally  that  she  was  quite  sure  the  man  she  saw  was 
not  the  King. 

"What  did  you  do,  Mademoiselle?" 

This  time  M.  Giraud  spoke  up: 

"Mile.  Marie  was  wrong  in  what  she  did,  but  under 
the  stress  of  emotion  she  raised  the  whole  hotel  and 
made  such  a  row  that  M.  Louis  advised  her  to  come 
and  see  me." 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  215 

"Very  good,  and  then?" 

"Why,  M.  Annion,  I  hurried  to  the  Royal  Palace 
and  made  an  investigation,  where  I  confirmed  what 
Mademoiselle  had  told  me.  I  then  decided  I  had  better 
lay  the  matter  before  you." 

M.  Annion  sat  deep  in  thought  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  he  burst  out : 

"Hang  it!  Your  accusation  of  imposture  is  absurd, 
Mademoiselle,  utterly  impossible!"  Then,  turning  to 
M.  Vicart,  he  added : 

"Haven't  we  the  formal  declaration,  irrefutable,  of 
that  Secret  Service  man  .  .  .  Glaschk  .  .  ." 

"Wulfenmimenglaschk." 

"That's  it!  ...  Have  you  seen  him,  M.  Giraud?" 

"I  have,  but  I  couldn't  get  anything  out  of  him ;  he 
was  three-quarters  drunk,  and  furious  with  his  Majesty 
who  had  just  struck  him." 

M.  Annion  stared  in  amazement. 

"But  Frederick-Christian  was  his  friend — his  inti- 
mate friend  .  .  .  they  were  pals  .  .  .  and  you  say  he 
struck  him?" 

Crossing  quickly  to  the  telephone,  he  called  up: 

"Hello !  Are  inspectors  42,  59  and  63  there?  What ? 
Then  send  them  up." 

"You  did  well  to  come  to  me,  M.  Giraud ;  we  must 
clear  up  this  business  at  any  cost.  .  .  .  I've  just  sent 


216  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

for  the  three  inspectors  whom  I  detailed  this  morning 
to  watch  his  Majesty  Frederick-Christian.  .  .  ." 

Then  glancing  at  Marie  Pascal : 

"You'll  hear  what  they  have  to  say,  Mademoiselle." 
A  few  minutes  later  the  three  men  entered  the  office. 

"Well,  what  is  new  ?    You've  been  shadowing  him  ?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Anything  to  report?" 

"Nothing  much,  Monsieur,  only  in  regard  to  the 
conduct  of  the  King.  It  seems  that  since  this  morning 
he  has  quite  changed.  Frederick-Christian,  instead  of 
keeping  himself  shut  up  as  of  late,  now  sees  his  friends 
again  and  has  resumed  his  haughty  manner  and  his 
fault-finding  with  the  servants." 

"What  friends  has  he  seen?" 

"A  young  attache  of  the  Embassy  arrived  imme- 
diately after  luncheon,  and  the  director  of  his  bank." 

"And  these  men  found  nothing  unusual  ?" 

"No,  chief,  nothing  at  all." 

M.  Annion  turned  to  Marie  Pascal. 

"You  see,  Mademoiselle,  that  is  conclusive,  isn't  it? 
What  probably  happened  was  that  the  King  had  a  fit 
of  nerves,  due  to  the  death  of  his  mistress,  and  then 
his  return  to  his  normal  life  misled  you.  .  .  ." 

Marie  Pascal  interrupted: 

"No,  Monsieur,  no!     Your  inspectors  are  wrong! 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  217 

I  who  love  him  cannot  be  deceived!  It  is  no  longer 
Frederick-Christian  II  who  is  at  the  Royal  Palace,  it 
is  an  impostor!  Besides,  even  if  I  could  have  been 
mistaken,  he  had  no  reason  for  not  recognizing  me,  of 
not  seeming  to  understand  what  I  was  saying." 

The  second  inspector  spoke  up : 

"Chief,  I  have  something  which  will  convince  Made- 
moiselle that  she  is  mistaken.  I  was  able  to  get  hold 
of  one  of  his  Majesty's  collars  which  he  had  just  worn. 
Its  size  is  distinctly  characteristic,  being  18  inches. 
Now  it  would  be  very  easy  to  verify  the  fact  that  the 
real  King  wears  this  size  and  also  whether  it  fits  the 
supposed  impostor.  In  any  case,  Monsieur,  from  in- 
quiries made  among  the  hotel  servants  I  find  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  Frederick-Christian  is  actually  stay- 
ing there,  and  that  his  intimate  friends  have  been  re- 
ceived and  have  recognized  him." 

M.  Annion  did  not  answer. 

"This  Marie  Pascal  is  crazy,"  he  thought,  "or  else 
she  is  up  to  some  game  which  I  don't  understand  .  .  . 
the  King  is  the  King  all  right,  but,  hang  it  all,  that 
doesn't  alter  the  fact  that  he  is  an  assassin." 


M 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
JUVE'S  LIES 

ANNION  had  left  the  Ministry  quite  late 
the  evening  before  in  a  very  bad  humor. 
Not  that  he  had  any  doubt  about  the  deposi- 
tion of  Marie  Pascal.  The  report  of  his  inspectors 
had  settled  that  point,  supplemented  by  the  visits  to 
the  King  of  the  attache  and  the  banker. 

"That  young  girl  of  the  sixth  floor,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "who  calls  herself  Marie  Pascal,  is  either  trying 
to  hold  up  the  sovereign  or  else  she  is  crazy.  In  either 
case  the  important  thing  is  to  make  her  hold  her 
tongue.  Now  there  are  two  ways  of  doing  this, 
through  menacing  her  or  through  bribing  her.  I'll 
apply  the  first,  and  if  that  doesn't  answer  I'll  try  the 
second." 

As  to  the  King,  while  his  identity  had  been  proved, 
he  was  none  the  less  a  murderer. 

The  question  was  whether  to  prevent  the  visit  he 
wished  to  pay  to  the  President  of  the  Republic  or  to 

bring  it  about. 

218 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  219 

M.  Annion  took  the  Rue  des  Saussaies  at  7.30  and 
having  reached  home,  dined  quickly  while  he  read  the 
evening  paper.  The  news  was  startling. 

An  article  reserved  in  tone,  but  giving  sufficient  de- 
tails, announced  the  arrest  of  Fantomas,  the  myste- 
rious criminal  of  the  Palace  Royal  of  Glotzbourg, 
while  attempting  to  steal  the  diamond  which  consti- 
tuted the  private  fortune  of  Prince  Frederick-Chris- 
tian II. 

"Good  God !"  cried  M.  Annion,  "Fantomas  arrested, 
the  diamond  stolen,  and  Juve  doesn't  return  or  send 
any  word!" 

The  director  of  the  Secret  Service  felt  himself  en- 
tangled in  a  network  of  intrigues  which  seemed  im- 
possible to  unravel.  He  seemed  to  be  surrounded  by 
an  impenetrable  mystery. 

Fantomas!  And  now  the  name  of  Fantomas  was 
associated  with  the  scandal  brought  about  by  Fred- 
erick-Christian ! 

M.  Annion  slept  badly,  haunted  by  a  nightmare  in 
which  he  was  constantly  pursuing  an  extraordinary 
Fantomas,  whom  he  would  seize  and  bind  and  who 
would  then  suddenly  vanish  into  thin  air.  At  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  he  appeared  at  his  office.  There 
a  surprise  awaited  him.  Upon  his  desk  lay  a  telegram. 
Rapidly  tearing  it  open,  he  glanced  at  the  text. 


220  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Ah!  .  .  .  Good  God!  Can  it  be  true!  Fantomas 
dead!  Fantomas  dead  in  prison!  I  must  be  dream- 
ing!" 

While  he  was  rereading  the  astonishing  news,  the 
door  of  his  office  opened  and  Juve  walked  in. 

"Juve!" 

"Myself,  Chief." 

"Well!" 

"Well,"  replied  Juve,  calmly,  "I've  had  a  pretty  good 
trip." 

Brandishing  the  telegram,  M.  Annion  cried : 

"Fantomas  is  dead!" 

"Yes  .  .  .  Fantomas  is  dead." 

"What  have  you  found  out?" 

"Oh,  a  thing  or  two  .  .  .  rather  interesting." 

"And  the  diamond?" 

"Stolen,  Chief,  disappeared." 

"Stolen  by  Fantomas?" 

"Yes,  by  Fantomas." 

"It  was  you  who  arrested  him  ?" 

"Hum ! — yes  and  no.  ...  I  was  the  cause  of  his  ar- 
rest." 

"And  the  murder  of  Susy  d'Orsel?" 

"It  was  committed  by  Fantomas." 

"You  are  sure  of  that?" 

"Certain,  Chief." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  221 

M.  Annion  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  in  great 
excitement. 

"Now  then,  let's  get  the  facts  in  the  case,  tell  me  in 
detail  what  occurred  at  Hesse-Weimar." 

Juve  had  had  the  foresight  to  prepare  a  report  which 
would  tell  enough  to  prove  that  the  murderer  of  Susy 
d'Orsel  was  really  Fantomas,  and  thus  clear  the  name 
of  the  King.  He  gave  no  hint,  however,  that  Fandor 
was  still,  as  Juve  thought,  impersonating  Frederick- 
Christian,  and  made  no  mention  of  his  own  adventures. 
He  concluded  by  saying : 

"In  a  word,  we  have  now  only  to  establish  the  guilt 
of  Fantomas  and  publish  the  story  of  his  crime,  to 
absolve  the  King  in  the  eyes  of  all  ...  and  that  will 
mean  the  end  of  your  troubles." 

"That  is  true!"  replied  the  director  joyfully,  "and 
I  may  add  it  is  entirely  due  to  you,  my  dear  Juve. 
Why,  the  other  day,  I  was  actually  on  the  point  of 
arresting  Frederick-Christian,  which  would  have  been 
an  unpardonable  blunder." 

"Really?" 

"Yes.  For  since  your  departure,  the  identity  of  the 
King  has  been  established  beyond  dispute.  Yesterday 
I  learned  that  the  director  of  the  bank  had  had  an  in- 
terview with  him,  and  he  also  received  a  visit  from  an 
intimate  friend,  an  attache  of  the  Embassy." 


222  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

Juve  heard  these  words  with  growing  uneasiness. 
The  King  was  Fandor.  How  had  Fandor  managed 
the  affair? 

M.  Annion  continued: 

"And  what  do  you  think  happened  yesterday  after- 
noon? I  received  a  visit  from  a  little  idiot  called 
Marie  Pascal,  who  still  insisted  on  the  imposture. 
She  asserted  that  the  King  was  no  longer  the 
same/' 

Juve  felt  his  head  swimming. 

Marie  Pascal  had  paid  one  visit  to  Fandor,  and  now 
declared  he  was  no  longer  the  same!  So  Fandor 
was  not  at  the  Royal  Palace.  Who  had  taken  his 
place? 

The  real  King? 

Was  Fandor  himself  a  victim? 

"By  the  way,"  pursued  M.  Annion,  oblivious  of 
Juve's  trouble,  "you  didn't  happen  to  learn  any  details 
concerning  the  King's  toilette  at  Glotzbourg?" 

"No,  why?" 

"Oh,  nothing  of  importance.  I  should  like  to  have 
known  whether  it  was  a  fact  that  Frederick-Christian 
wore  an  1 8-inch  collar.  It  would  merely  have  been  an- 
other proof." 

The  words  literally  stupefied  the  detective.  If  the 
man  at  the  Royal  Palace  wore  1 8-inch  collars,  he  was 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  223 

certainly  not  Fandor,  whose  neck  was  very  slender. 
The  journalist  wore  size 


One  hour  later  —  it  was  then  half-past  ten  in  the 
morning  —  Juve  arrived  at  the  Royal  Palace.  He  did 
not  attempt  to  send  up  his  card  to  the  King,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  gathering  what  information  he 
could  from  among  his  colleagues  who  were  stationed 
about  the  hotel. 

"The  deuce  !"  he  cried,  twenty  minutes  later.  "It's 
true  that  Frederick-Christian  is  really  here.  What  has 
become  of  Fandor?  Well,  I  shall  probably  be  able  to 
get  news  of  him  at  his  own  apartment.  What  I  have 
to  do  now  is  to  recover  the  diamond  and  catch  Fan- 
tomas  ...  if  that  is  possible." 


CHAPTER    XXV 

"l  WANT  TO  LIVE!" 

DURING  two  days  which  passed  like  two  cen- 
turies, Fandor  had  been  held  prisoner  in  his 
dungeon  where  death  awaited  him. 

"I  am  condemned  to  death,"  he  exclaimed,  "very 
good,  then  I  will  wait  for  death." 

But  Fandor  was  of  those  who  do  not  give  up  until 
the  struggle  is  over.  Besides,  he  had  his  faithful  re- 
volver. He  could  end  his  life  at  any  moment  and 
shorten  the  torture.  He  had  found  sufficient  ham  to 
last  for  two  meals,  and  when  that  had  been  eaten  and 
the  last  drop  of  water  drunk  he  began  to  suffer  the 
tortures  of  hunger  and  thirst.  And  now,  like  a  caged 
beast,  he  paced  up  and  down  his  prison.  His  mind 
went  back  to  stories  he  had  read,  stories  of  entombed 
miners,  of  explorers  hemmed  in  by  ice,  of  hunters 
caught  in  traps,  but  in  all  these  cases  deliverance  in 
one  form  or  another  had  come  at  last — the  adventures 
ended  happily. 

"I  want  to  live,"  he  cried  aloud,  "I  want  to  live !" 

Suddenly  a  great  calm  descended  upon  him.     His 

coolness  and  clear  judgment  returned. 

224 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  225 

"To  struggle !    Yes — but  how  ?" 

At  this  moment  the  roar  of  the  Nord-Sud  shook 
his  prison  walls.  An  idea  took  root  in  his  mind. 

Might  it  not  be  possible  to  burrow  his  way  through 
the  soil  directly  to  the  tunnel !  Examining-  the  ground, 
he  decided  that  it  would  be  simpler  to  tunnel  his  way 
like  a  mole,  skirting  the  concrete  base  of  the  statue  and 
reaching  the  pavement  beyond.  It  would  not  be  hard 
work  to  dislodge  one  of  the  paving  stones  and  reach 
the  open  air.  No  sooner  was  the  plan  conceived  than 
he  broke  several  of  the  bottles  until  he  obtained  a  piece 
of  the  thick  glass  sufficiently  jagged  to  form  a  trowel. 

With  this  rough  implement  he  then  set  to  work, 
scooping  up  the  earth  and  piling  it  on  one  side  of  his 
cell.  Patiently  and  ceaselessly  he  continued,  hour  after 
flour,  until  suddenly  the  hiss  of  escaping  gas  could  be 
faintly  heard. 

"I'm  done  for  this  time,"  he  cried  in  despair.  "I 
shall  be  asphyxiated!"  But  a  gleam  of  hope  quickly 
set  him  to  work  again. 

"Gas  is  lighter  than  air.  It  may  percolate  through 
the  chinks  of  the  masonry.  In  any  case  I'd  rather  die 
that  way  than  be  starved  to  death." 

It  was  a  race  between  the  escaping  gas  and  the  tun- 
nel. 

Very  soon  Fandor  began  to  feel  a  dizziness  in  his 


226  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

head,  and  the  air  became  more  difficult  to  breathe; 
suddenly,  he  had  the  sensation  of  being  enveloped  in 
an  extraordinary  blue  flame,  and  then  a  loud  report 
deafened  him. 

Fandor's  prison,  saturated  with  gas,  had  suddenly 
blown  up! 

The  ground  gave  way  beneath  him:  he  was  lying 
in  the  ruins. 

Destiny  had  made  a  plaything  of  his  efforts. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

THE  ACCUSING  WAISTCOAT 

"     A     S  a  matter  of  fact,  Monsieur  Juve,  did  not  the 

/"%  celebrated  Vidocq  before  he  was  a  detective 
begin  life  as  a  murderer?" 

Wulf,  book  in  hand  and  comfortably  installed  in  a 
large  armchair,  addressed  the  question  to  Juve,  who 
answered  in  brief  monosyllables,  without  turning  his 
head : 

"That's  true,  Monsieur  Wulf." 

"And  don't  you  think  that  every  detective  at  one 
time  or  another  has  a  tendency  toward  crime,  either 
as  a  thief  or  as  an  assassin?" 

"That  I  cannot  say." 

What  a  day  Juve  had  passed!  Events  had  suc- 
ceeded each  other  with  such  startling  rapidity  that  the 
detective,  in  spite  of  his  robust  physique,  began  at 
length  to  feel  the  strain.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had 
really  had  no  rest  since  his  tragic  awakening  in  the 
mortuary  chapel  at  Glotzbourg.  He  had  passed  the 
following  night  in  the  train  without  closing  an  eye. 

Upon  his  arrival  he  had  been  busy  without  interrup- 

227 


228  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

tion  until  he  found  himself,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  in 
his  little  apartment  in  the  Rue  Bonaparte  with  the 
grotesque  Wulf  as  companion.  While  the  latter  was 
tranquilly  reading  the  adventures  of  Vidocq,  Juve  was 
absorbed  in  a  strange  task  which  occupied  his  entire 
attention. 

He  was  minutely  examining  a  queer-looking  gar- 
ment, a  waistcoat  of  very  unusual  cut.  He  turned  to 
Wulf: 

"Monsieur  Wulf,  you  recognize  this  garment,  don't 
you  ?  There  is  no  doubt  that  it  came  from  Jacob  and 
Company,  the  Glotzbourg  tailors?" 

Wulf  nodded. 

"No  doubt  whatever.  I've  had  too  much  experience 
in  such  matters  to  be  mistaken.  .  .  .  Besides,  the  ini- 
tials J.  G.  are  on  the  buttons." 

"Yes,  yes — Jacob  of  Glotzbourg." 

Juve  now  examined  the  lining  with  a  magnifying 
glass,  muttering  the  while : 

"Ah,  just  as  I  expected!" 

The  pocket  of  the  waistcoat  had  been  distended  by 
some  large  object  which  had  been  forcibly  introduced 
into  it.  The  detective  quickly  took  some  modeling  clay 
and  made  it  into  certain  dimensions  carefully  meas- 
ured, then  with  a  stick  he  marked  the  surface  of  the 
ball  into  facets,  referring  now  and  again  to  a  book 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  229 

open  before  him.  Let's  see,"  he  exclaimed,  "the  Hesse- 
Weimar  diamond  is  two-thirds  of  a  hen's  egg  in  size, 
and  weighs  295  carats,  that  is  to  say,  larger  than  the 
Koh-i-noor,  the  famous  Indian  diamond,  one  of  the 
crown  jewels  of  England." 

He  now  introduced  his  model  into  the  pocket  and 
found  that  it  fitted  the  hole  exactly. 

"There  1    What  do  you  say  to  that !"  he  cried. 

"Why,  you're  very  clever,  Monsieur  Juve,"  replied 
Wulf,  "but  I  don't  see  how  that  helps.  Even  if  you 
prove  that  the  King's  diamond  was  kept  for  a  certain 
time  in  the  pocket  of  that  waistcoat,  still  you  don't 
know  to  whom  the  waistcoat  belongs,  and  that's  the 
most  important  point." 

Juve,  still  engrossed  in  his  examination,  vouchsafed 
no  reply,  and  Wulf  with  folded  arms  stood  contemplat- 
ing him.  Various  problems  were  engaging  Juve's 
thoughts,  whose  day  had  been  exceedingly  busy. 

After  being  satisfied  that  Frederick-Oiristian  was 
really  back  again  at  the  Royal  Palace,  the  question 
arose  as  to  what  had  become  of  him  after  his  disap- 
pearance. A  hurried  visit  to  Fandor's  lodgings  dis- 
closed the  fact  that  the  journalist,  after  a  brief  absence, 
had  returned  home  for  an  hour  and  had  then  disap- 
peared again. 

"Upon  my  word,"  he  thought,  "he  might  at  least 


23o  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

have  sent  me  some  word.  He  must  know  how  anxious 
I  would  be  about  him." 

From  Fandor's  house  Juve  had  gone  direct  to  Susy 
d'Orsel's  apartment.  It  was  a  theory  of  his  that  a 
good  detective  could  never  visit  too  often  the  scene 
of  a  crime.  Mechanically  he  went  through  the  various 
rooms  until  he  reached  the  kitchen. 

"I  have  a  feeling  that  something  happened  here," 
he  muttered,  "but  what?" 

A  close  examination  of  the  floor  showed  distinct 
traces  of  feet  in  some  fine  coal  dust.  These  traces 
proved  to  be  those  of  a  woman's  shoes,  small,  elegant 
and  well  made.  They  could  not  possibly  belong  to 
Mother  Citron  nor  to  Susy  d'Orsel,  who,  he  recalled, 
had  worn  satin  mules  on  the  night  of  the  murder.  The 
person  who  immediately  presented  herself  to  Juve's 
mind  was  Marie  Pascal. 

"The  deuce!"  he  cried,  "this  becomes  complicated. 
This  coal  dust  and  these  imprints  were  not  here  a  few 
days  ago,  therefore  some  one  has  been  here  since  and 
has  evidently  been  at  pains  to  lay  a  false  trail !" 

With  the  intention  of  examining  the  servants'  stair- 
case again,  he  let  himself  out  with  a  pass-key  and  be- 
gan the  descent.  But  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his 
thoughts  that  unconsciously  he  went  down  one  flight 
too  many  and  found  himself  in  the  cellar  of  the  build- 


A   ROYAL    PRISONER  231 

ing.  Juve,  following  his  custom  of  never  neglecting 
to  search  even  the  most  unsuspicious  places,  lit  his 
electric  light  and  examined  the  room  he  had  entered. 

On  either  side  of  the  cellar  were  ranged  a  number 
of  doors,  all  securely  padlocked.  These  were  evidently 
the  private  cellars  of  the  tenants.  As  he  threw  his 
light  on  the  floor,  he  could  not  repress  a  movement  of 
surprise.  Dropping  on  all  fours,  he  began  a  close 
examination  of  the  ground. 

"Now  I  begin  to  see  daylight.  For  some  time  I 
have  had  the  conviction  that  Frederick-Christian,  upon 
leaving  Fandor  made  his  escape  by  the  servants'  stair- 
case, and  thus  left  the  house.  But  I  could  not  under- 
stand why  he  had  not  returned  to  his  hotel.  My  con- 
clusion was  wrong.  Frederick-Christian,  like  myself, 
came  down  a  flight  too  many  and  found  himself,  as 
I  have,  in  this  cellar.  Evidently  a  scoundrel  was  wait- 
ing for  him  here.  The  trampled  ground,  the  shreds  of 
silk  torn  from  a  high  hat,  all  indicate  clearly  the  strug- 
gle which  took  place.  But  the  King,  being  drunk, 
was  easily  overpowered  and  bound.  That  is  the  reason 
he  did  not  reach  his  hotel." 

One  difficulty  still  troubled  the  detective.  It  had  been 
shown  that  on  the  night  of  December  3ist,  the  third 
person,  otherwise  the  King,  whom  Fandor  declared 
to  be  in  the  apartment,  had  been  unable  to  escape  by 


232  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

the  back  stairs,  since  the  door  was  locked  and  bolted. 
Then  it  came  into  Juve's  mind  that  the  maid  Justine 
in  giving  testimony  had  become  embarrassed  and  finally 
had  admitted  that  the  key  having  been  lost,  she  had 
neglected  to  lock  the  door.  This  cleared  up  the  du- 
bious point  and  established  in  Juve's  mind  the  com- 
plete explanation  of  what  happened. 

Fantomas,  after  killing  Susy  d'Orsel,  had  lurked  on 
the  stairs  until  the  King  left  the  apartment.  Then, 
locking  the  door,  he  had  hurried  after  his  victim  and 
caught  him  at  the  moment  he  reached  the  cellar. 

The  detective's  next  move  was  to  break  into  the 
apartment  of  the  Marquis  de  Serac.  By  the  aid  of  a 
ladder  which  he  found  in  a  corner,  he  climbed  up  and 
broke  a  windowpane  and  thus  made  his  entrance.  At 
first  nothing  in  the  apartment  seemed  worthy  of  sus- 
picion. The  rooms  were  elegant  but  commonplace. 
The  bureaus  and  wardrobes  were  locked,  and  gave  out 
a  hollow  sound  when  rapped  upon.  As  he  did  not 
have  his  burglar's  equipment  with  him,  Juve  decided 
to  come  back  later  and  investigate.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  when  his  foot  caught  in  a  garment, 
which  he  found  to  be  a  waistcoat.  He  gave  vent  to 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  as  he  picked  it  up  and 
folding  it  into  a  bundle  hid  it  under  his  overcoat.  The 
Marquis  de  Serac  had  been  under  his  suspicion  for 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  233 

some  time;  now  that  suspicion  was  in  a  fair  way 
to  become  a  certainty.  Were  the  Marquis  and  Fan- 
tomas  one  and  the  same? 

Juve  was  inclined  to  answer  in  the  affirmative.  .  .  . 

The  next  step  was  to  invite  Wulf  to  dine  with  him, 
to  show  him  the  waistcoat  and  prove  beyond  doubt 
that  it  had  been  made  by  a  tailor  of  Glotzbourg. 

Juve's  opinion  had  now  become  a  solid  conviction. 
Fantomas  had  worn  the  garment,  and  had  carried  the 
diamond  in  the  pocket  of  the  waistcoat  he  found  in 
the  Marquis  de  Serac's  apartment.  Hence  the  Mar- 
quis de  Serac  was  Fantomas. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

THE   EXPLOSION    OF   THE    NORD-SUD 

THE  Empire  clock  on  Juve's  desk  struck  half- 
past  eleven.  The  detective,  having  gone  over 
in  his  mind  the  course  of  events  just  narrated, 
rose  abruptly  and  tapped  Wulf  on  the  shoulder. 

"Monsieur  Wulf,  if  you  are  to  remain  here  you  are 
very  welcome  to  do  so ;  as  for  me,  I'm  going  out." 

Wulf,  wakened  out  of  a  doze,  sat  up  and  stared  at 
Juve,  an  expression  of  dawning  suspicion  in  his  eyes. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  inquired. 

Juve,  absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  did  not  remark  the 
strange  behavior  of  his  colleague.  He  had  settled  on 
a  plan  of  action,  which  was  simply  to  arrest  the  Mar- 
quis de  Serac. 

"Oh,  I'm  just  going  .  .  .  for  a  walk." 

"All  right,  get  your  hat." 

A  few  moments  later  the  two  men  hailed  a  taxi 
and  drove  to  247  Rue  de  Monceau. 

During  the  trip  Juve  pumped  Wulf  about  his  re- 
lations with  Fandor,  and  it  appeared  that  the  latter 
had  pursued  the  policy  of  making  Wulf  drunk  upon 

every  occasion.     Doubtless,  the  detective  reasoned,  it 

234 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  235 

was  thus  that  Fandor  was  enabled  to  escape  for  an 
hour,  during  which  time  the  substitution  had  been  ef- 
fected. Wulf  explained  how  he  had  found  the  King 
near  the  fountains  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and 
Juve  realized  that  in  some  way  or  other  the  King  and 
the  fountains  were  mysteriously  connected. 

In  his  turn,  Wulf  plied  Juve  with  questions  as  to 
what  he  had  done  during  his  stay  at  Glotzbourg. 

What  sort  of  welcome  had  he  received  from  M. 
Heberlauf  ? 

How  had  the  arrest  of  Fantomas  been  effected? 

How  had  the  monster  died  ? 

The  detective,  naturally,  had  no  intention  of  en- 
lightening Wulf  as  to  the  truth. 

He  therefore  answered  in  monosyllables,  annoyed 
by  the  turn  the  conversation  had  taken.  In  fact,  as 
the  questions  became  more  pressing,  it  flashed  through 
Juve's  mind  that  the  stupid  officer  was  actually  begin- 
ning to  suspect  him  of  being  Fantomas.  As  the  taxi 
neared  its  destination  Juve  suddenly  put  his  head  out 
of  the  window  and  cried  with  an  oath  to  the  chauffeur : 

"Follow  that  automobile  which  is  just  starting  and 
don't  lose  sight  of  it!" 

Wulf  turned  inquiringly: 

"It's  the  Marquis  de  Serac." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 


4>36  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Why,  is  he  the  man  we  are  after?"  Then  turning 
again  to  the  chauffeur: 

"Have  you  plenty  of  gasoline?" 

"Enough  to  run  a  hundred  miles,  Monsieur." 

The  chase  began  at  the  Boulevard  de  Courcelles, 
continued  through  the  Place  de  1'Etoile  and  the  Ave- 
nue de  la  Grande  Armee.  The  two  taxis,  of  the  same 
horsepower,  kept  an  equal  pace,  but  the  Marquis  de 
Serac's  chauffeur  seemed  the  smarter  man.  At  any 
rate,  he  was  the  more  daring.  He  dodged  in  and 
out  of  the  traffic  and  began  to  gain  on  his  pursuers. 

"He's  taking  us  to  the  Bois,"  growled  Juve,  as  they 
made  a  turn  to  the  left  after  passing  the  fortifications, 
before  the  Barriere  de  Neuilly.  The  pace  increased  in 
the  back  streets  and  then,  suddenly,  the  taxi  of  the 
Marquis  de  Serac  disappeared! 

It  had  turned  sharply  down  a  narrow  street. 

At  the  risk  of  his  neck,  the  detective  sprang  out  of 
his  taxi  and  rushed  round  the  corner,  just  in  time  to 
hear  a  door  bang  to. 

Wulf  now  joined  him. 

"We  have  wasted  our  time,  my  dear  Juve.  The 
taxi  we  have  been  following  was  empty.  It  made  a 
circuit  and  passed  me  just  now." 

"Just  what  I  expected!"  cried  Juve,  "our  man  got 
out  of  it  .  .  he  is  still  here." 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  237 

Juve  took  out  his  revolver,  and  then  an  exclamation 
of  surprise  escaped  his  lips.  Fifty  yards  away,  a 
figure  appeared,  vague  and  dressed  in  white. 

"What  the  devil  does  that  mean?  I've  been  fol- 
lowing the  Marquis  de  Serac,  of  that  I'm  sure,  and 
now  I  find  this  other  one.v  Then  turning  to  Wulf, 
he  gripped  him  by  the  arm.  "You  see  that  individual, 
well,  he  is  the  Primitive  Man  Ouaouaoua." 

Taking  the  utmost  precaution,  Juve  and  Wulf  fol- 
lowed the  enigmatic  Ouaouaoua  for  over  an  hour. 
The  singular  meeting  had  given  the  detective  food 
for  thought.  This  man  had  figured  prominently  at 
the  ceremony  of  the  Singing  Fountains ;  again,  he  had 
been  foremost  in  the  demonstration  of  the  mob  against 
the  King  outside  the  Royal  Palace.  It  was  now  that  a 
suspicion  came  to  Juve's  mind,  that  this  venerable 
beard  and  white  woollen  robe  concealed  the  person  of 
the  Marquis  de  Serac. 

"Whatever  happens,"  he  muttered,  "I  must  get  to 
the  bottom  of  this.  While  it  would  be  quite  easy  to 
bring  him  down  with  a  shot  from  my  revolver,  yet, 
once  dead,  I  could  get  no  information  from  him." 

They  arrived  at  the  corner  of  the  Boulevard  Male- 
sherbes  and  the  Avenue  de  Villiers,  and  Juve's  excite- 
ment grew,  for  he  knew  that  not  far  away  was  the 


238  A   ROYAL    PRISONER 

America  Hotel,  where  Lady  Beltham  had  put  up  under 
the  name  of  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra.  Ah !  If 
it  were  possible  to  connect  the  Primitive  Man  with 
her!  In  that  case  he  would  not  hesitate  to  arrest 
them  both,  although  he  suspected  that  Fantomas's  mis- 
tress would  be  more  ready  to  give  him  up  than  to  shield 
him. 

But  Ouaouaoua  brusquely  made  a  right-about  face 
and  headed  toward  the  Boulevard  des  Batignolles. 

"Are  we  going  to  keep  this  up  much  longer?"  in- 
quired Wulf,  who  by  this  time  was  breathless  and 
weary. 

"You  can  go  if  you  like,"  growled  Juve  without 
turning  his  head.  In  his  intense  absorption,  Juve 
failed  to  notice  the  menacing  and  ironical  look  the 
officer  directed  at  him. 

Ouaouaoua  now  turned  down  the  Rue  Notre-Dame- 
de-Lorette  hastening  his  speed.  The  two  men  had 
some  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with  him.  Suddenly  he 
disappeared  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Saint  Lazare  and 
the  Rue  Lamartine.  Juve  sprang  forward  just  in 
time  to  see  the  white  draped  figure  vanish  down  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  underground  Station  of  the  Nord- 
Sud. 

The  Station  was  lighted  and  the  ticket  windows 
open.  The  morning's  traffic  had  begun. 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  239 

"Have  you  just  seen  a  queerly  dressed  man?"  he 
asked  one  of  the  porters. 

"He  has  just  bought  his  ticket,  Monsieur." 

Juve  flung  down  a  coin,  seized  two  coupons  and 
without  waiting  for  the  change  hurried  onto  the  plat- 
form. The  first  morning  train  was  waiting,  due  to 
start  in  five  minutes.  A  quick  search  through  the 
carriages  disclosed  the  object  of  Juve's  search.  He 
was  standing  in  the  first  carriage  by  the  door  of  the 
driver's  compartment.  While  Juve  eyed  him  eagerly, 
the  Primitive  Man  in  turn  was  watching  the  detec- 
tive. 

The  conductors  and  employes  were  standing  gossip- 
ing by  the  ticket  office,  and  the  station  was  almost  de- 
serted at  this  early  morning  hour. 

Juve  remained  on  the  platform  with  Wulf.  As  a 
preliminary  to  making  his  arrest,  he  took  out  his  re- 
volver, and  held  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  Suddenly 
he  gave  a  yell  and  sprang  forward.  Ouaouaoua,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  engine  driver's  absence,  had 
entered  his  compartment  and  pulled  the  levers. 

In  a  moment  the  train  was  under  way.  As  Juve 
made  a  jump  on  board,  Wulf  tried  to  restrain  him, 
and  in  the  scuffle  knocked  the  revolver  out  of  the 
detective's  hand.  To  the  consternation  of  the  train's 
crew  left  behind  in  the  station,  the  train  was  nov* 


240  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

gathering  speed.  Their  shouts  in  turn  alarmed  the 
few  passengers,  who  regarded  the  precipitate  entrance 
of  Juve  in  amazement.  Finally  a  cry  from  the  power- 
ful lungs  of  Wulf  was  heard  above  all  the  other 
noises.  A  name  shouted  in  terror: 

"Fantomas !" 

A  rush  was  instantly  made  to  seize  the  fool  or  the 
madman  who  had  started  the  train,  but  a  revolver  shot 
quickly  drove  back  the  passengers  and  Juve,  furious 
with  the  imbecile  Wulf  for  having  disarmed  him,  was 
obliged  to  take  cover  with  the  others. 

The  train  passed  through  the  Station  de  la  Trinite, 
shot  through  Saint  Lazare  without  heed  to  signal  and 
tore  along  at  headlong  speed.  And  then,  in  a  mo- 
ment, the  train  was  plunged  into  total  darkness  and 
a  cry  of  rage  escaped  from  the  Primitive  Man.  The 
detective  understood  in  a  flash. 

The  Nord-Sud  had  had  the  happy  idea  of  cutting 
off  the  power,  and  Juve  noticed  that  this  occurred 
just  as  the  train  had  passed  the  Station  de  la  Con- 
corde and  entered  the  tube  beyond.  Ah!  this  time 
the  Primitive  Man  was  in  a  tight  corner.  His  re- 
volver would  be  less  dangerous  in  the  darkness. 

Juve  rose  carefully,  prepared  to  advance,  when  a 
spark  was  seen,  succeeded  by  a  terrific  explosion.  A 
shower  of  matter  fell  upon  the  train,  shattering  the 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  241 

windows  and  throwing  the  passengers  pell-mell  upon 
each  other. 

Then  .  .  .  silence.  .  .  . 

The  red  lights  of  torches  gradually  lighted  up  the 
tunnel  in  which  the  tragic  accident,  still  unaccounted 
for,  had  occurred.  Juve,  unconscious  for  ten  minutes, 
came  to  his  senses  and  realized  with  a  sense  of  relief 
that  he  was  unhurt,  and  that  the  men  directing  the 
rescue  were  the  Paris  firemen.  Many  persons  had 
been  wounded,  but  by  an  apparent  miracle  not  one  had 
been  killed. 

The  Primitive  Man  had  disappeared. 

Juve,  in  quest  of  clues  which  might  lead  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  explosion,  climbed  upon  the  train  to  where 
an  immense  hole  in  the  roof  of  the  tube  had  showered 
down  bits  of  asphalt  and  broken  earth.  He  noticed 
quickly  that  communication  had  been  opened  with  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde.  By  dint  of  hoisting  and 
scrambling  he  succeeded  at  length  in  gaining  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground. 

Vague  groanings  came  from  the  mass  of  stones 
piled  not  far  away.  As  he  approached  these  noises, 
they  became  more  distinct.  Finally,  he  discovered  the 
body  of  a  man  wedged  between  two  large  blocks  and 
covered  with  a  piece  of  gas-pipe. 


242  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

The  body  was  begrimed  with  soot  and  mud.  Juve, 
after  hauling  his  burden  to  the  open  air,  where  he 
was  greeted  with  cheers  by  the  crowd,  dipped  his 
handkerchief  in  the  water  from  the  fountain  and 
wiped  the  man's  face.  Suddenly,  he  dropped  to  his 
knees  with  a  cry: 

"Fandor!    It's  Fandor!" 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

INNOCENT  OR    GUILTY? 

JUVE  and  Doctor  Gast  were  talking  in  low  tones 
in  the  dining-room  adjoining  the  bedroom. 
Their  patient,  Fandor,  had  just  wakened  and 
had  cried  out: 

"I'm  dying  of  hunger !" 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning.  After 
rescuing  his  friend  Fandor  from  his  perilous  situation, 
he  had  taken  the  unfortunate  journalist  to  his  own 
home  in  Rue  Richer  and  called  in  a  physician  of  the 
quarter,  Doctor  Gast.  An  examination  of  the  patient 
showed  that  he  had  received  no  serious  injury,  merely 
some  abrasions  and  one  or  two  burns. 

As  Juve  and  the  Doctor  answered  his  call  for  food, 
Fandor  sat  up  and  without  surprise  or  question  re- 
peated his  cry: 

"I'm  dying  of  hunger.  Hurry  up  and  give  me 
something  to  eat." 

The  Doctor  took  his  pulse,  then  suggested : 

"Something  light  won't  hurt  him,  say,  a  slice  of 
ham." 

A  formidable  oath  was  the  reply: 

"No,  thanks!  .  .  .  anything  you  like,  but  not  ham." 
243 


244  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"All  right  ...  a  chicken  wing  instead." 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  Fandor,  who  added: 

"While  I'm  awful  hungry,  don't  forget  that  I'm 
just  as  thirsty !" 

"Well,  Doctor?" 

"Well,  Monsieur,  I  find  everything  going  well. 
Our  patient  has  had  a  good  meal  and  is  now  sleeping 
peacefully.  By  to-morrow,  M.  Fandor  will  be  all 
right  again.  It  was,  however,  about  time  he  got  food, 
for  in  my  judgment  he  pretty  nearly  died  of  hunger." 

"That's  what  I  can't  understand." 

"When  you  went  back  just  now  to  the  scene  of 
the  accident,  didn't  you  learn  any  of  the  details?" 

Juve  answered  evasively : 

"Nothing  to  speak  of,  Doctor,  merely  that  the 
wounds  of  the  passengers  are  not  serious.  As  to  the 
cause  of  the  explosion,  I  have  a  notion  that  it  may 
have  been  due  to  an  escape  of  gas.  I  noticed  a  strong 
odor  of  it  about  Probably  a  spark  set  it  off." 

The  doctor  now  took  his  leave,  and  no  sooner  was 
he  well  out  of  the  door  when  a  joyful  whistle  came 
from  the  sick  man's  room.  Juve  could  not  restrain 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  as  he  looked  into  the 
bedroom.  Fandor  was  already  partly  dressed  and 
in  the  act  of  lacing  up  his  boots. 

"You  are  crazy  to  get  up  in  your  condition!" 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  245 

"Hang  my  condition,  I  feel  as  strong  as  a  horse 
and  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

Juve  laughed. 

"Oh,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  there's  nothing  more 
to  be  said." 

After  a  second  breakfast,  Fandor  turned  to  his 
friend : 

"Now,  then,  Juve,  let's  hear  where  you've  been!" 

For  two  hours  each  in  turn  narrated  their  adven- 
tures of  the  past  days,  and  by  combining  their  experi- 
ences, they  arrived  at  a  clear  view  of  the  situation. 
One  question  was  answered  beyond  doubt.  The  hand 
of  Fantomas  was  everywhere  apparent.  His  care- 
fully laid  plan  to  get  possession  of  the  King's  dia- 
mond unquestionably  involved  the  arrest  of  the  King 
by  the  French  authorities  for  the  murder  of  his  mis- 
tress. 

It  was  now  their  difficult  task,  first  to  recover  the 
jewel  and  then  capture  the  bandit.  Two  points  still 
remained  to  be  cleared  up.  What  role  had  Marie 
Pascal  played  in  the  affair?  Was  she  innocent  or 
an  accomplice?  And  had  Lady  Beltham  intended  to 
save  Juve  or  had  she  intended  to  save  Fantomas? 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  Juve  should  go  to  the 
America  Hotel  and  call  on  the  pseudo  Grand  Duchess 
Alexandra,  and  that  Fandor  should  see  Marie  Pascal. 


246  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

They  were  about  to  put  this  project  into  execution 
when  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door  startled  them. 

Fandor  sprang  forward,  but  the  detective  quickly 
thrust  him  into  the  bedroom,  and  opened  the  door  him- 
self. 

"You  here,  Wulf!" 

"As  you  see." 

The  absurd  officer  marched  into  the  apartment  with 
an  air  of  great  satisfaction. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Juve,  and  what  do  you  think  of 
my  detective  instinct?" 

"I  don't  understand." 

"Ah,  you  thought  you'd  got  rid  of  me  at  the 
Sud-Nord  Station,  didn't  you,  but  I  fooled  you.  I 
arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  explosion  at  the  precise 
moment  you  were  giving  an  address  to  the  chauffeur 
and  carrying  away  a  body." 

"A  body  ...  in  pretty  good  health !" 

"Furthermore,  I  came  across  some  one  you  were 
looking  for,  I  think." 

"Fantomas?" 

"No,  not  Fantomas,  but  the  Primitive  Man,  gen- 
erally called  Ouaouaoua." 

"And  you  let  him  go  ?" 

"Oh,  I  let  him  go  all  right,  but  not  before  he  gave 
me  his  address." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  247 

Juve  smiled  grimly. 

"A  nice  mess  you've  made  of  it !" 

Wulf  continued  with  an  air  of  great  importance: 

"I  can  tell  you  something  else,  the  King  returns  to 
Glotzbourg  to-night,  but  before  he  goes  we  shall  have 
the  guilty  person  arrested." 

A  slight  noise  made  Wulf  turn  his  head  and  then 
give  a  loud  cry. 

Fandor  had  entered  the  room. 

"Good  God!  Who  is  that?  ...  the  King?  .  .  . 
No,  it's  not  the  King  .  .  .  help!  help!" 

Wulf  cast  frightened  glances  to  right  and  left  and 
then  made  a  dive  for  the  door,  slamming  it  behind 
him  as  he  rushed  out: 

"I  knew  he  was  a  fool,"  exclaimed  Juve,  "but  I 
didn't  know  he  was  crazy  besides.  And  to  think  he 
had  Fantomas  in  his  hands  and  let  him  go!" 

The  two  men  now  reverted  to  their  interrupted 
project  and  decided  to  pay  their  respective  visits  to 
Marie  Pascal  and  Lady  Beltham. 

"Mam'zelle  Marie!  Mam'zelle  Marie!  Come  in 
and  rest  a  bit !" 

The  pretty  lace-maker  was  passing  the  office  of  the 
concierge,  the  so-called  Mother  Citron.  The  young 
girl  accepted  the  invitation  and  sat  down,  heaving  a 


248  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

deep  sigh.  It  was  only  ten  in  the  morning  but  her 
red  eyes  and  her  face  showed  signs  of  having  passed 
a  bad  night. 

"You  mustn't  work  so  hard!"  exclaimed  the  con- 
cierge. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  my  work;  that  rests  me,  it  helps  me 
to  forget.  ...  I  have  so  many  troubles." 

"Tell  me  all  about  them." 

By  degrees  and  through  her  tears,  Marie  confided 
all  that  had  happened  to  her  since  the  night  of  the 
murder.  The  avowal  of  love  she  had  made  to  the 
King  and  the  unforgettable  hour  she  had  passed  in 
his  company ;  then  the  police  inquiries,  suspicions,  and 
the  fact  that  they  were  continually  following  her. 

"Ah,  if  only  I  had  some  one  to  turn  to.  I've 
thought  of  going  to  see  this  detective  the  King  spoke 
of,  M.  Juve." 

As  Marie  Pascal  pronounced  that  name,  an  ex- 
pression of  sinister  joy  came  into  the  eyes  of  Mother 
Citron : 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  she  exclaimed. 

Marie  hesitated : 

"I  would  never  dare  go  to  see  him  alone." 

"Marie  Pascal,  you  know  how  fond  of  you  I  am, 
and  as  sure  as  I'm  called  Mother  Citron,  I'll  prove 


A   ROYAL   PRISONER  249 

what  I  say.  In  a  couple  of  minutes  I'll  put  on  my  hat 
with  the  flowers  and  leave  my  workwoman  in  charge 
here.  Then  I'll  take  you  myself  to  this  M.  Juve  ... 
if  you're  afraid  of  him,  I'm  not  I" 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

COMPROMISING     DISCOVERIES 

FANDOR,  smoking  a  good  cigar,  walked  to  the 
Rue  Monceau,  taking  deep  breaths  of  the  fresh 
air,  looking  up  with  delight  at  the  blue  sky. 
After  his  imprisonment  and  slow  torture  he  experienced 
an  extraordinary  joy  in  living  and  in  his  freedom. 

When  he  reached  the  house  he  found  the  concierge's 
office  empty.  He  called  out  several  times. 

"I'm  the  concierge,  what  is  it  you  want?"  a  voice 
answered  behind  him. 

Fandor  turned  sharply: 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  Madame,  I  didn't  see  you." 

It  would  have  surprised  the  journalist  had  he  known 
that  the  extraordinary  Mme.  Citron  a  moment  before 
had  been  comfortably  installed  in  the  Marquis  de 
Serac's  apartment,  and  that  hearing  herself  called, 
she  had  slid  down  her  communicating  post  to  answer 
the  summons.  Still  further  was  he  from  imagining 
that  the  Marquis  de  Serac  and  Mme.  Citron  were  one 
and  the  same  person. 

"Well,  now  that  I'm  here,  what  is  it  you  want?" 

Madame  Citron  recognized  Fandor.  But  she  recog- 
nized him  as  being  some  one  he  was  not.  She  had,  in- 

250 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  251 

deed,  only  seen  him  for  a  few  moments  immediately 
after  the  murder  of  Susy  d'Orsel. 

"I  want  to  see  Mile.  Marie  Pascal.  She  lives  here, 
doesn't  she  ?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  but  .  .  ." 

"Is  she  at  home?" 

"What  is  it  about?" 

Fandor  answered  casually : 

"I  have  an  order  to  give  her." 

"Then,  if  Monsieur  will  leave  it  with  me  .  .  ." 

"Why  ?     Isn't  Mile.  Marie  Pascal  here  ?" 

"No,  Monsieur." 

"Will  she  be  long  away?" 

"I'm  afraid  she  will." 

"All  right,  I'll  come  back  about  six  o'clock.  I  must 
see  her  personally,  I  have  a  number  of  details  to  ex- 
plain." 

Mme.  Ceiron  shook  her  head. 

"I  don't  think  you'll  find  her." 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  she's  in  the  country." 

"Will  she  be  away  for  several  days?" 

"I  expect  so." 

Fandor  decided  to  burn  his  bridges. 

"Look  here,  it's  not  about  an  order;  I'm  sent  here 
by  Juve,  you  know  him?" 


252  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"The  detective?" 

"Yes,  Madame,  the  detective." 

Madame  Ceiron  appeared  to  be  very  disturbed. 

"Oh!  I  shall  get  jaundice  from  all  this  bother.  I 
can't  even  sleep  in  peace.  It'll  end  in  them  suspecting 
me,  I  know  it  will." 

"No,  no,  Madame,  I  assure  you  ..." 

"After  all,  I'd  rather  tell  you  the  exact  truth,  then 
you  can't  complain  of  me.  You  see,  it's  this  way: 
Yesterday  the  little  girl  came  and  said  to  me,  'Madame 
Ceiron,  I'm  so  upset  and  unhappy,  and  I'm  bothered 
to  death  with  questions,  too,  and  then,  this  King  who 
isn't  a  King  .  .  .  I've  a  good  mind  to  pack  my  trunk 
and  go  away.'  So  I  said  to  her,  if  that's  the  case, 
go  by  all  means — she  had  paid  a  quarter's  advance — 
and  when  you  are  ready  just  come  back — and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it,  Monsieur." 

"You  have  no  idea  where  she  went,  Mme.  Ceiron  ?" 

"Well,  I  heard  her  tell  the  cab-driver  to  take  her 
to  the  Montparnasse  Station." 

"Do  you  know  if  she  has  any  friends  or  relations  in 
the  country?" 

"Ah! — that's  a  good  idea,  Monsieur,  now  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  she  always  went  on  her  holidays  from 
the  same  station,  probably  to  visit  some  of  her  family, 
but  where  they  live  I  haven't  the  least  idea." 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  253 

Fancier  had  an  inspiration. 

"Maybe  she  has  received  letters  which  will  tell  us! 
Have  you  the  key  of  her  room?" 

"Yes,  I  have  the  key;  would  you  like  to  go  up?" 

"Of  course! — I  must  make  a  search  through  her 
belongings." 

Jerome  Fandor  felt  strangely  agitated  in  entering 
the  simple  room  of  the  young  lace-maker.  It  has  been 
frequently  said  that  the  souls  of  people  can  be  divined 
from  the  atmosphere  of  their  homes,  and  if  this  is  true, 
the  journalist  was  surely  not  mistaken  when  at  the 
Royal  Palace  he  had  experienced  a  rather  warm  feel- 
ing for  Marie  Pascal. 

The  room  showed  no  sign  of  precipitate  abandon- 
ment, nor  any  preparation  for  a  long  absence.  Her 
work-basket  and  cushions  were  all  in  place,  and  one 
would  have  expected  her  return  at  any  moment.  But 
alas !  Fandor  could  harbor  no  illusion  regarding  her. 
Her  flight  was  evidently  to  escape  a  probable  arrest  by 
Juve.  A  minute  inspection  of  Marie's  papers  dis- 
closed nothing  of  importance;  but  upon  opening  the 
last  drawer  in  her  desk  he  found,  hidden  under  en- 
velopes and  letter  paper,  a  number  of  small  objects. 

"Ah!  the  devil!"  he  exclaimed. 

The  objects  were  jewels,  brooches,  rings,  earrings 


254  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

and  also  a  large  key,  evidently  of  an  apartment  door. 
One  glance  at  the  jewels  was  enough.  Fandor  had 
seen  and  admired  them  upon  the  person  of  Susy  d'Or- 
sel  during  the  supper  which  preceded  her  tragic  death. 

"My  God!  there's  no  doubt  now,"  he  muttered, 
"Marie  Pascal  is  the  accomplice  of  Fantomas." 

And  then  the  journalist  decided  upon  a  theory  to 
account  for  her  having  left  the  jewels  behind.  She 
had  probably  arranged  to  have  them  found  among 
somebody  else's  things  and  thus  to  throw  suspicion 
from  herself,  just  as  she  had  attempted  to  leave  the 
famous  chemise  in  the  Marquis  de  Serac's  laundry. 

"What  will  Juve  say  to  this?  I  must  see  him  right 
away !" 

He  turned  to  the  concierge: 

"Madame  Ceiron,  I  realize  our  search  here  will  be 
without  result,  so  I  will  leave  you  now  and  probably 
return  about  ten  to-night  with  my  friend  Juve." 

"Very  good,  Monsieur.  You  found  nothing,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  declared  Fandor. 

While  Fandor  was  going  downstairs  the  pseudo 
Mme.  Ceiron  made  a  grimace. 

"He's  found  nothing,  hasn't  he?  And  yet  he's 
turned  over  everything  I  left  in  that  drawer!  He's 
not  so  clever  as  Juve,  although  he  isn't  a  fool.  .  .  . 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  255 

After  all,  I  don't  care,  I've  got  them  both  where  I 

want  them." 

Jerome  Fandor  shouted  an  address  to  his  driver : 
"Rue  Bonaparte,  and  if  you  hurry  there's  a  good 

tip  waiting  for  you." 


CHAPTER    XXX 

SHADOWED 

AN  unusual  cold  had  continued  for  nearly  a 
week,  and  the  ice  fete  organized  by  the  skating 
club  upon  the  upper  lake  in  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne had  been  announced  for  this  particular  day. 
This  fete  had  been  already  frequently  postponed  on 
account  of  the  weather.  It  had  become  a  joke  among 
Parisians  to  receive  an  invitation  for  a  date  which  was 
invariably  followed  by  a  period  of  thaw,  turning  the 
lake  into  ice  water  and  mud. 

And  now  the  afternoon  of  this  January  day,  which 
began  with  the  explosion  in  the  Sud-Nord  tunnel,  had 
been  finally  decided  upon.  •  The  clear  atmosphere  and 
severe  cold  promised  no  further  disappointment.  The 
fete  was  to  be  given  in  aid  of  the  poor  of  the  town 
and  the  admission  fee  was  put  at  a  high  figure  for 
the  purpose  of  drawing  a  fashionable  crowd  and  keep- 
ing out  the  mob.  Vehicles  of  all  kinds  drew  up  and 
were  parked  by  the  shore  of  the  lake,  giving  the  place 
the  appearance  of  a  fashionable  reception. 

M.  Fouquet-Legendre,  President  of  the  Committee, 

stood  chatting  with  the  Marquis  de  Serac,  and  both 

256 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  257 

men  cast  frequent  glances  in  the  direction  of  the 
town. 

"You  are  sure  he  will  come?"  M.  Fouquet-Legendre 
inquired  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"You  may  rely  upon  it,  His  Majesty  himself  prom- 
ised to  honor  with  his  presence  the  reunion  organized 
by  your  Committee." 

M.  Fouquet-Legendre  moved  away  to  superintend 
the  preparation  of  a  lunch  table  containing  sandwiches, 
cakes  and  champagne.  The  Marquis  de  Serac  saun- 
tered among  the  crowd,  exchanging  bows  and  hand- 
shakes with  his  numerous  friends. 

To  see  this  elegant  old  gentleman,  jovial,  smiling, 
without  an  apparent  trouble  in  the  world,  it  would  be 
hard  to  imagine  that  he  was  the  formidable  and  elusive 
Fantomas. 

The  arrival  of  a  superb  limousine  aroused  the  curi- 
osity of  the  crowd.  A  distinguished-looking  man, 
wearing  a  striking  cloak  and  a  cap  of  astrakhan, 
stepped  out  of  it. 

It  was  King  Frederick-Christian  II.  The  worthy 
president  immediately  suggested  a  glass  of  champagne, 
but  the  King  made  it  quickly  known  that  he  had  come 
to  skate,  and  desired  to  remain  officially  incognito. 

Frederick-Christian  had  regained  his  popularity  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Parisians.  The  suspicion  of  murder- 


258  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

ing  his  mistress  which  had  attached  to  him  had  gradu- 
ally given  way  to  the  belief  that  he  was  innocent,  and 
the  real  perpetrator  of  the  crime  was  now  supposed  by 
the  public  to  be  Fantomas. 

The  King  proved  himself  to  be  an  expert  skater,  and 
under  the  respectful  gaze  of  the  crowd,  described 
graceful  curves  and  difficult  figures  upon  the  ice.  At 
length  the  attention  of  the  King  was  drawn  to  a  wom- 
an, who,  equally  clever,  seemed  to  be  amusing  herself 
with  copying  his  evolutions.  The  figure  of  this  wom- 
an seemed  not  unfamiliar  to  him,  and  he  finally  set 
himself  to  follow  her,  increasing  his  speed,  until  the 
two  brought  up  face  to  face.  Involuntarily  a  name 
escaped  his  lips: 

"The  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra!  You  here, 
Madame!" 

He  could  not  forget  that  this  woman,  with  all  her 
seductive  charm,  was  actually  a  redoubtable  adver- 
sary of  his  dynasty.  The  pseudo  Grand  Duchess,  how- 
ever, manoeuvred  skilfully,  affecting  such  a  timid  and 
embarrassed  air  that  by  degrees  the  King's  severity 
melted  under  her  charm.  She  seemed  a  little  tired 
and  out  of  breath  from  the  chase,  and  when  she 
glanced  round  in  search  of  support,  he  could  scarcely 
do  less  as  a  gallant  man  than  offer  her  his  arm. 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  259 

Profiting  by  this  chance,  the  adventuress  adroitly 
whispered  her  regrets  at  the  unjust  scandal  and  cal- 
umny which  had  coupled  her  name  with  that  of  Prince 
Gudulfin. 

"Sire,"  she  finally  murmured,  "give  me  the  oppor- 
tunity of  proving  my  devotion." 

The  two,  separated  from  the  others,  slowly  skated 
away  together.  Suddenly  the  King  stopped  short;  he 
realized  he  had  listened  with  close  attention  to  the 
confidences  of  the  troubling  person  he  still  took  for 
the  Grand  Duchess. 

What  had  she  been  saying  to  him? 

A  few  minutes  later  Frederick-Christian,  deciding 
it  was  time  to  return  to  his  Hotel,  skated  toward  the 
bank.  The  Grand  Duchess  made  a  deep  curtsey  and 
ended  her  conversation  with  these  words : 

"Sire,  may  I  beg  your  forgiveness  for  one  of  your 
subordinates  ?" 

"It  is  granted,  Madame  ...  if  what  you  tell  me 
comes  true.  ..." 

"Your  Majesty  will  permit  me  to  be  present  at  the 
Gare  du  Nord  when  you  leave  this  evening." 

A  taxi  arrived  at  the  lake.     Juve  sprang  out  of  it. 
The  detective  bit  his  lip  and  swore  upon  seeing  a 


26o  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

superb  limousine  in  which  he  saw  seated  Frederick- 
Christian  and  the  Marquis  de  Serac. 

"Too  late  again !"  he  muttered.  "I  miss  Lady  Bel- 
tham  at  the  America  Hotel;  I  miss  the  King  at  the 
skating.  At  least,  let  me  make  sure  that  the  so-called 
Grand  Duchess  is  still  here." 

A  thorough  search  on  the  ice  and  among  the  crowd 
on  shore  failed  to  discover  the  lady,  who  had  doubtless 
left  at  the  same  time  as  the  King.  While  skating 
from  group  to  group  Juve  was  brought  up  by  a  con- 
versation in  low  tones  between  M.  Annion  and  M. 
Lepine.  Hiding  behind  a  tree,  he  listened  attentively. 

"Well,  you  know  the  last  news  ?" 

"Yes,"  declared  M.  Annion,  "but  it  seems  very 
extraordinary." 

"There  is  no  doubt,  however,  this  Grand  Duchess 
Alexandra  should  be  well  posted  .  .  .  now.  She  has 
formally  promised  the  King  that  his  diamond  will  be 
found  in  the  possession  of  our  man  .  .  .  who  will  be 
under  arrest  this  evening.  ..." 

"You  believe  that?"  questioned  M.  Lepine,  with  a 
skeptical  smile. 

"Well,  I  believe  in  the  arrest — that  is  certain;  but 
whether  we  shall  find  the  diamond  is  another  matter." 

Juve's  first  impulse  was  to  make  himself  known  to 
his  chief;  but  on  second  thoughts  he  decided  to  keep 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  261 

silent.  He  had  gathered  from  the  conversation  that 
the  arrest  of  Fantomas  was  imminent.  That,  of 
course,  was  satisfactory  in  every  respect. 

The  conversation  continued  and,  as  he  listened, 
Juve  could  not  help  smiling-. 

"They  are  all  right!  They  realize  the  work  I've 
done  and  they  want  me  to  reap  the  reward  of  it." 

M.  Lepine  had,  in  fact,  asked  M.  Annion: 

"You  are  quite  sure  Juve  will  be  at  the  Gare  du 
Nord  this  evening?" 

"Quite  sure ;  I  have  given  him  orders  to  that  effect." 

Juve  decided  it  was  not  worth  while  going  home 
to  get  the  order.  Evidently  they  counted  upon  him 
to  be  at  the  Station  at  nine  o'clock ;  ostensibly  to  assist 
at  the  departure  of  the  King,  in  reality  to  arrest  Fan- 
tomas. 

The  detective  moved  away,  there  was  not  a  moment 
to  spare.  Whatever  happened  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  he  should  have  an  interview  with  Lady 
Beltham. 

In  her  small  oriental  salon,  the  Grand  Duchess 
Alexandra  sat  chatting  with  Wulf,  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  evening. 

"Really,  Monsieur  Wulf,  you  are  an  extraordinary 
man,  and  your  intelligence  is  amazing." 

"Madame  is  too  indulgent,"  replied  Wulf,  beaming. 


262  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

"Oh  no,  I  am  only  fair  to  you;  I  know  you  are 
a  man  of  value  and  that  is  why  I  have  been  at  pains 
to  re-establish  you  in  the  good  graces  of  your  sover- 
eign." 

Since  her  return  to  the  America  Hotel,  Alexandra 
had  been  exceedingly  busy.  To  begin  with,  she  had  re- 
ceived a  visit  from  her  lover,  the  Marquis  de  Serac. 
A  long  conversation  in  low  tones  had  taken  place, 
and  the  Marquis  had  left  her,  nervous  and  agitated. 
The  adventuress  had  then  put  on  a  smiling  face  to 
meet  the  ridiculous  Wulf,  and  after  some  mysterious 
and  complicated  business  with  him  had  been  transacted, 
she  had  ended  by  loading  the  officer  with  outrageous 
compliments  and  saying: 

"And  now,  thanks  to  you,  Monsieur  Wulf,  the 
elusive  Fantomas  is  about  to  be  arrested.  Be  as- 
sured the  King  will  give  you  the  very  highest  proof  of 
his  gratitude  for  this  service.  Your  position  at  the 
Court  of  Hesse- Weimar  will  be  more  important  than 
ever." 

Night  had  fallen  and  the  lamps  of  the  Paris  streets 
were  lit  up. 

At  the  corner  of  the  Boulevard  Malesherbes  and  the 
Avenue  de  Villiers,  not  far  from  the  door  of  the 
America  Hotel,  a  man  was  seated  on  a  bench;  he 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  263 

seemed  to  be  merely  resting;  but  in  reality  he  was 
closely  watching  each  individual  who  entered  and  left 
the  Hotel. 

This  man  was  Juve. 

He  began  rubbing  his  hands  with  a  satisfied  air. 

"Good,  good !  The  evening  is  beginning  well.  .  .  . 
There  is  one  important  thing  for  me  to  do  now; 
shadow  Lady  Beltham,  and  not  lose  sight  of  her  for 
a  single  moment,  from  the  time  she  leaves  this  Hotel 
until  .  ." 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

THE   DEATH    WATCH 

IN  her  ears  an  incessant  buzzing.  On  her  throat 
a  weight  which  stifled  her.  In  her  mouth  a  gag 
which  obstructed  her  breathing  and  tore  her  lips. 
Over  her  eyes  a  heavy  bandage.  Her  arms  were 
bound  at  the  wrists,  her  body  was  bruised  by  heavy 
thongs,  and  her  ankles  bleeding  from  the  pressure 
of  cords. 

Marie  Pascal  was  gradually  regaining  conscious- 
ness. She  tried  to  make  a  movement,  but  her  body 
could  not  respond;  she  wanted  to  cry  out,  but  her 
voice  died  away  in  her  throat.  At  first  she  thought 
it  was  all  a  nightmare,  then  memory  returned  and  she 
recalled  every  detail  of  her  strange  and  sinister  adven- 
ture. 

She  saw  herself  starting  with  Mme.  Ceiron  to  call 
on  Juve.  The  concierge  had  said : 

"Don't  worry,  my  dear,  I  know  the  way.  Mon- 
sieur Juve  gave  me  his  address." 

At  length,  after  a  long  walk,  Mme.  Ceiron  made  her 

climb  the  stairs  of  a  decent  looking  house.     On  the 

264 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  265 

~~     •••••»•- 

way  up  she  remembered  feeling  faint  and  that  the 
concierge  had  given  her  salts  to  smell.  Follow- 
ing that  came  complete  unconsciousness,  out  of 
which  she  woke  to  hear  a  grim  menacing  voice  ex- 
claim : 

"I  am  Fantomas!  I  condemn  you  to  death  in  the 
interest  of  my  cause!" 

She  was  in  the  hands  of  Fantomas ! 

And  then  she  fainted  again,  but  not  until  after  a 
flood  of  light  had  been  let  into  her  mind.  In  a  flash 
she  understood  that  Fantomas  himself  must  have  been 
the  mainspring  of  the  incomprehensible  events  envelop- 
ing the  King's  visit  to  Paris.  Furthermore,  she 
divined  that  Mme.  Ceiron  and  Fantomas  were  the 
same  person.  It  was  she  who  offered  the  salts,  un- 
doubtedly inducing  her  unconsciousness.  The  sound 
of  a  steady  tic-tac  she  recognized  as  coming  from  a 
nearby  clock.  Where  was  she? 

Was  she  really  in  Juve's  apartment? 

With  a  supreme  effort  she  succeeded  in  turning  her 
head  a  little,  and  in  the  movement  the  bandage  over 
her  eyes  became  loosened  and  fell  off.  She  could  see 
at  last! 

She  found  herself  bound  to  a  large  sofa  placed  in 
the  middle  of  a  well-furnished  room.  Before  her  was 
placed  a  monstrous  and  sinister  thing — the  menacing 


266  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

barrel  of  a  revolver.  Its  trigger  was  bound  by  a  num- 
ber of  strings,  each  one  ending  in  a  nail.  These  were 
embedded  in  lighted  wax  candles,  and  from  the  nails 
hung  a  counter-weight. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  guess  its  purport. 

When  the  candles  burned  down  to  the  nails,  these 
would  become  detached,  releasing  the  counter-weights 
and  automatically  discharging  the  revolver  aimed 
straight  at  her  body.  Fantomas  had  no  need  to  re- 
turn. His  infernal  cunning  had  found  a  means  to 
kill  her  in  his  absence. 

Marie  Pascal  calculated  that  the  candles  would  burn 
for  not  more  than  an  hour — an  hour  and  a  half  at 
most.  The  unfortunate  girl  now  began  to  undergo 
the  agony  of  waiting  for  her  approaching  end.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  candles  had  been  piously  lighted 
for  some  death  watch.  When  the  wax  had  melted 
near  the  first  nails,  she  closed  her  eyes  and  a  deep  sigh 
of  horror  escaped  from  her  lips. 

"Pity!     Pity!" 

Suddenly,  Jerome  Fandor  burst  into  the  chamber, 
anxious  to  tell  his  friend  Juve  about  the  objects  he 
had  found  in  Marie  Pascal's  room.  Scarcely  had  he 
opened  the  door  than  he  started  back  in  amazement, 
white  as  a  sheet.  Ah!  the  horrible  spectacle  of  the 
young  girl  lying  motionless,  as  though  dead,  she,  who 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  267 

in  spite  of  everything,  he  still  found  charming.  Then 
realizing  the  situation,  he  sprang  forward,  put  out  the 
candles  and  removed  the  revolver. 

"Saved!     You  are  saved!" 

With  infinite  precautions  he  untied  the  ropes  and 
placed  Marie's  head  upon  some  cushions.  She  opened 
her  eyes  slowly  and  murmured : 

"Where  am  I  ?     Help !     Fantomas !" 

Fandor  endeavored  to  reassure  her. 

"Don't  be  frightened!  Fantomas  isn't  here;  you 
are  saved.  ...  It  is  I  ...  Jerome  Fandor." 

Marie  Pascal  was  seated  in  an  armchair,  still  very 
pale,  but  with  courage  regained. 

"Now,  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the  journalist,  "I 
beg  you  to  tell  me  everything.  ...  I  promise  I  won't 
give  you  up  ...  time  is  precious  and  if  your  accom- 
plice had  tried  to  get  rid  of  you,  it  is  only  natural; 
you  are  dangerous  for  him.  .  .  .  Marie  Pascal,  I  im- 
plore you  to  tell  me  the  truth !  Tell  me,  who  is  Fan- 
tomas ?" 

The  young  girl  listened  to  these  words  with  grow- 
ing amazement. 

"The  accomplice  of  Fantomas,  I!  ...  What  are 
you  saying,  Monsieur?  .  .  .  Sire!" 

Jerome  Fandor  interrupted. 


268  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Now  don't  deny  it!  Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  the 
truth.  I  am  not  the  King." 

"You  are  not  .  .  ." 

"No,  but  I  haven't  time  to  explain  that  now  .  .  . 
you  must  help  me  to  capture  this  criminal  .  .  .  and  I 
give  you  my  word  you  will  not  be  involved  yourself." 

"But  I  am  not  the  accomplice  of  Fantomas!" 

"Then  why  did  you  steal  those  jewels?  Why  have 
you  the  key  of  Susy  d'Orsel's  apartment  in  your 
possession  ?" 

Marie's  face  expressed  such  bewilderment  as  Fan- 
dor  asked  the  question  that  he  could  no  longer  doubt 
her  innocence. 

"Then,  for  the  love  of  heaven,  tell  me  all  you 
know!" 

Marie  Pascal  told  a  lengthy  story.  She  recounted 
in  detail  the  role  she  had  played  in  the  tragic  affair  of 
the  Rue  Monceau  and  ended  by  exclaiming: 

"What  you  don't  know  is  that  Mme.  Ceiron  is  in 
reality  Fantomas.  Under  this  disguise  he  has  tried 
to  assassinate  me;  he  assured  you  that  I  had  gone 
to  the  country,  so  that  rescue  would  have  been  impos- 
sible." 

"Ah,  Fantomas!"  cried  Fandor  at  the  end  of  the 
recital,  "your  hour  has  come!  In  an  hour  at  most 
you  will  begin  the  expiation  of  your  crimes!" 


A    ROYAL   PRISONER  269 

As  the  young  girl  looked  doubtfully  at  him,  he 
added : 

"It's  time,  Marie  Pascal!  Come  with  me  and  see 
him  arrested!" 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

THE   ARREST  OF   FANTOMAS 

OOD  evening,  Monsieur  Caldoni,  so  you  are 
starting  soon?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Vicart,  it's  customary 
and  also  my  duty,  every  time  a  sovereign,  a  crowned 
head,  takes  the  train  .  .  ." 

"You  stick  as  close  to  him  as  possible  until  he  has 
reached  the  frontier.  Well,  I'm  not  sorry  to  see  you 
here,"  continued  Vicart,  "for  now  my  job  is  over." 

"And  mine  just  beginning,  worse  luck." 

"Oh!  you  have  only  a  few  hours  of  it;  you  travel 
luxuriously  in  a  special  train  ..." 

"One  gets  tired  of  that  pretty  soon.  Last  week  I 
took  the  Dowager  Queen  of  Italy  to  Menton;  then 
jumped  to  the  Spanish  frontier  to  pick  up  the  King 
of  Spain;  now  it's  the  King  of  Hesse-Weimar — to- 
morrow, who  knows?" 

The  station  was  decorated  gaily  in  honor  of  the 
departing  Frederick-Christian.  In  a  private  room,  a 
number  of  the  guests,  especially  invited,  were  waiting 
the  arrival  of  the  Sovereign. 

While  M.  Vicart,  in  company  with  a  special  agent, 
270 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  271 

made  a  rapid  examination  of  the  station  and  satisfied 
himself  that  all  preparations  had  been  thoroughly 
carried  out,  M.  Caldoni  was  talking  to  the  station- 
master. 

"The  King's  special  train  is  to  start  exactly  at  10.17, 
that  is  to  say,  it  will  follow,  at  an  interval  of  10 
minutes  number  322." 

"The  322  is  the  Cologne  express,  isn't  it?"  inquired 
M.  Caldoni. 

"Yes,  the  Cologne  express." 

In  the  meantime  a  vast  crowd  of  the  curious  who 
had  learned  of  the  departure  of  the  King  by  the  even- 
ing papers,  filled  the  waiting-rooms  and  platforms. 
Journalists  were  grouped  apart  and  the  invited  guests 
included  numerous  persons  of  quality.  Among  them 
was  Baron  Weil,  member  of  the  Council  of  Adminis- 
tration, and  delegated  to  represent  it  at  the  ceremony 
of  departure.  Lieutenant  Colonel  Bonnival  was  also 
there  to  represent  the  State.  At  the  station  entrance, 
M.  Havard  stood  alone,  waiting  the  arrival  of  the 
automobile  which  contained  M.  Annion,  in  attendance 
upon  the  King. 

Making  his  way  noiselessly  in  and  out  of  the  crowd, 
Juve  gradually  drew  near  the  front  ranks  and  reached 


272  A    ROYAL   PRISONER 

the  cordon  of  special  officers  whose  duty  it  was  to  bar 
the  way  to  the  platform  of  departure.  Here  Juve 
ran  into  Michel,  and  the  two  men  silently  shook  hands. 
Juve  was  about  to  show  his  card,  but  Michel  smiled: 

"No  need  for  you  to  show  it,  Juve." 

The  detective  now  mingled  with  the  guests,  and  as 
he  reached  the  reception-room  he  moved  behind  a  lady 
who  had  just  arrived.  Waiting  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity he  approached  her: 

"Pardon  me,"  he  began  in  a  dry  voice,  "one  moment, 
please." 

The  lady  turned  sharply: 

"Monsieur,  who  are  you?    What  do  you  want?" 

"I  am  Juve,  of  the  Secret  Service." 

"And  I  am  the  Grand  Duchess  Alexandra,  relative 
of  the  King  of  Hesse-Weimar." 

"No,  you  are  Lady  Beltham.  I  recognize  you  and 
it  will  be  no  use  to  deny  it." 

The  adventuress  started  panting,  in  her  eyes  a  look 
of  fear. 

"Ah,"  she  stammered. 

"I've  got  you,  Lady  Beltham.  The  time  to  pay  has 
come.  You  are  under  arrest."  Then  in  a  whisper  he 
added,  "Where  is  the  diamond?" 

There  was  a  silence.  Lady  Beltham  lowered  her 
eyes. 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  273 

"Better  tell  me,  and  avoid  the  scandal." 
"Don't  make  a  scandal,  I  implore  you.     I  have  the 
diamond  with  me." 

At  this  moment  the  King  of  Hesse- Weimar  entered 
the  reception-room  accompanied  by  his  friend,  the 
Marquis  de  Serac. 

Juve  could  not  repress  a  start.  The  daring  of  Fan- 
tomas  was  beyond  belief.  But  his  first  duty  was  to 
recover  the  diamond.  Leaning  toward  his  prisoner, 
he  whispered: 

"Hand  over  the  diamond  immediately." 

The  adventuress  gave  him  a  strange  and  mysterious 
look. 

"Monsieur,  slip  your  hand  into  my  sleeve." 

Juve  obeyed.  His  fingers  instantly  closed  around 
the  precious  jewel  which  he  identified  at  once  by  the 
feel. 

"Monsieur,  I  came  here  for  the  express  purpose  of 
returning  it,  please  believe  me." 

At  this  moment  Juve  met  the  eyes  of  M.  Annion, 
and  he  realized  that  the  time  had  come  to  report  to 
his  chief.  The  detective  had  three  plain  clothes  men 
at  his  elbow;  he  now  turned  to  them  and  with  a  ges- 
ture gave  the  care  of  Lady  Beltham  into  their  keeping. 
Juve  then  advanced  through  the  crowded  room  to- 


274  A    ROYAL    PRISONER 

ward  M.  Annion  and  the  King.  The  latter  watched 
him  closely  and  whispered  to  M.  Vicart : 

"This  time  we  mustn't  hesitate." 

In  a  moment  Juve  felt  his  arms  seized  and  pinioned, 
and  then  before  he  could  recover  from  his  amazement, 
he  was  hustled  off  into  a  private  room. 

"Search  him!" 

Immediately  one  of  his  guards  snatched  the  diamond 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  Juve  looked  up  and  in 
the  doorway  stood  the  absurd  Wulf  and  by  his  side 
the  Marquis  de  Serac. 

"Fantomas,"  he  cried,  "Fantomas!  .  .  .  arrest 
him!"  Then  in  a  sudden  access  of  rage: 

"Let  me  go,  you  idiots !  M.  Annion,  what  does  this 
mean?  Fantomas  stands  before  you!  We've  got 
him,  and  Lady  Beltham,  too!" 

M.  Annion  paid  no  attention  to  his  outburst,  but 
calmly  turned  to  another  man  who  had  appeared  on 
the  scene. 

"Monsieur  Heberlauf,  do  you  recognize  this  man  ?" 

M.  Heberlauf,  who  never  could  make  a  decision, 
hesitated : 

"It  seems  to  me  ...  I  don't  know  ...  I  think  I 
do.  Madame  Heberlauf  can  tell  you  better  than  I 
can." 

Madame  Heberlauf  now  stepped  forward  and  in  a 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  275 

flood  of  words,  explained  to  M.  Annion  that  she  had 
no  doubt  in  the  matter. 

"By  a  most  infernal  device,  Monsieur,  this  criminal 
escaped  from  his  prison,  and  not  content  with  that,  he 
killed  an  unfortunate  servant,  an  old  porter  whom 
our  police  discovered  the  following1  day  in  the  mortu- 
ary chapel  of  Glotzbourg." 

Instinctly  Juve  was  about  to  protest  but  M.  Annion 
held  up  a  hand. 

"Silence.  You  will  explain  at  the  trial."  Then 
turning  to  the  Marquis  de  Serac,  he  handed  the  dia- 
mond to  him. 

"We  are  very  glad  to  be  able  to  return  this  precious 
jewel  to  his  Majesty  Frederick-Christian  II,  and  I 
place  it  in  your  hands,  Marquis,  in  presence  of  Mon- 
sieur Wulf  and  Monsieur  Heberlauf." 

A  yell  from  Juve  interrupted  him : 

"God  Almighty !  the  Marquis  de  Serac  is  Fantomas ! 
.  .  .  Fantomas,  the  assassin  of  Susy  d'Orsel !" 

M.  Havard  came  forward: 

"It's  no  use,  Juve,  keep  quiet.  We  know  all  you 
would  say.  But  I  may  tell  you  that  in  every  place 
where  Fantomas  left  his  trace  we  have  found  un- 
deniable evidences  of  your  presence." 

When  M.  Havard  pronounced  the  name  Fantomas, 
a  young  girl  sprang  forward.  It  was  Marie  Pascal. 


276  A   ROYAL   PRISONER 

"Monsieur,"  she  cried,  "Fantomas  is  arrested! 
Fantomas,  the  monster  who  nearly  killed  me  two 
hours  ago!" 

"Nearly  killed  you?     Where?" 

"In  a  house  in  the  Rue  Bonaparte." 

"M.  Juve's  house,"  exclaimed  the  Marquis  de  Serac 
with  an  ironical  smile. 

"And  who  rescued  you  ?"  asked  M.  Havard. 

Marie  Pascal  turned  to  identify  Fandor  but  the 
journalist  had  disappeared. 

Getting  wind  of  what  was  afoot  after  reaching  the 
station,  he  had  kept  out  of  sight  and  listened  to  the 
rumors  of  the  crowd.  It  was  with  stupefaction  that 
he  at  length  discovered  that  the  authorities  had  actu- 
ally decided  that  Juve  and  Fantomas  were  one  and 
the  same  person! 

With  his  usual  quick  decision,  he  promptly  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  be  more  useful  to  his  friend 
if  he  remained  free.  He  realized  the  probability  of 
his  own  arrest  for  counterfeiting  the  King. 

M.  Vicart  offered  humble  apologies  to  the  pseudo 
Grand  Duchess  Alexandra,  who  accepted  them  with 
a  haughty  inclination  of  the  head,  and  hastened  to 
join  the  suite  of  the  King. 

The  latter  warmly  thanked  the  Marquis  de  Serac 


A    ROYAL    PRISONER  277 

and  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  crowd  the  train 
started. 

Wulf,  swollen  with  vanity,  cried  aloud  so  that  every- 
one might  hear: 

"It  is  thanks  to  me  that  he  is  arrested !" 

Juve  now  left  with  the  police  officers,  shouted  at  the 
top  of  his  voice : 

"But  I  am  Juve!  Juve!  Oh!  they  are  all  crazy! 
Crazy!" 

In  a  few  moments  he  was  taken  to  a  waiting  taxi, 
while  the  crowd  took  a  last  look  at  the  departing  King 
and  his  suite.  They  were  saying: 

"That's  the  Grand  Duchess  and  the  Marquis  de 
Serac!" 

Juve  gave  one  great  cry  of  distress,  while  the  tears 
coursed  down  his  cheeks. 

"The  Grand  Duchess!  the  Marquis  de  Serac!  No! 
no!  The  police  have  arrested  an  innocent  man  and 
have  let  Lady  Beltham  and  Fantomas  escape!" 

THE   END 


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